Not Every Dynasty
by ShayneScribbler
Summary: AU RusAme: The Eastern Kingdom has invaded the Western Empire, but that's hardly important. Alfred's biggest concern is how to deal with upset parents, a failed attempt at registering as a Consort, and keeping track of his new Familiar. Now Complete.
1. Prologue

A/N This story is an AU based very loosely along the lines of Disney's Mulan. This first bit follows the movie a bit more closely than the rest will, though some scenes may be closer than others. In the next few chapters we'll start to see some of the main characters and updates should be fairly regular (hopefully, circumstances might change).

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, so don't sue. All you'll get is pocket lint.

Warnings for this chapter: AU, some OOCness, a grumpy Swiss man.  
>Pairing for this chapter: SwitzerlandAustria.

Prologue: A Broken Wall

Yao stared dispassionately at the burning towers around him, the lights of fires harsh and bright in the night and continuing beyond sight in either direction. It had been almost laughably easy to take the great wall; the silly emperor that had built it far too secure behind its high walls. There had been hardly any guards, little more than one per tower.

"How boring," he sighed to the falcon perched on his forearm, stroking her soft feathers as she chattered back at him.

Truly, he had hoped for something more challenging. At least, with the signals on all the towers burning, the emperor would know of his invasion and perhaps send an army for Yao and his men to amuse themselves with before taking the empire right out from under Emperor Roderick's delicate and pathetic feet.

Yao caught movement at the corner of his vision and turned slightly to his second-in-command. The man was short and frail in appearance, but a deadly shot with the bow he currently had stowed in the case slung across his back. Kiku was not one to be under-estimated, despite his misleading physique.

"The wall is secure," Kiku announced softly, his eyes and face blank. "Shall we press on?"

"No," Yao mused glancing out at the lands in front of him. "It will take time for the emperor to send his troops. The Western Empire will still be here in the morning, we shall stay the night on the wall."

Kiku nodded and turned sharply, leaving with measured strides to inform the rest of the Eastern army. Yao returned to his contemplation of the dark landscape before him. He could already see it afire, villages naught but ashes and blood in his wake. Roderick's wall had been a blatant challenge, one Yao was determined to make him regret.

Vash had barely lifted his tea cup to his lips when the doors to the imperial dining hall burst open, slamming back against the walls with a tremendous _bang_! Twitching in surprise, the tight grip he had on the cup's handle slipped and the sound of shattering china filled the silence that followed the opening of the doors. Grimacing in suppressed anger, Vash turned to glare at the perpetrator, frown only deepening when he saw General Winter striding purposefully across the room. Beside him, Roderick stood from his seat, his face a mask of calm as the General knelt before the table.

"Your Majesty," the man began, his voice permanently harsh from years of barking orders and heavy smoking. "The Eastern border has been breached."

"Impossible," Vash snapped, finally unable to contain his temper. "Our wall runs the entire length of that border, it would take months to seize –!"

Vash cut off quickly when he felt the hand on his waist. He glanced up at Roderick furiously, but bit his tongue; they were hardly in private and disobeying the emperor was unacceptable, but the man would be hearing about this later. Loudly.

"You're certain?" Roderick queried, his lilting and aristocratic voice carrying through the overly silent room. All other members of the court had frozen in their seats, most looking vaguely terrified by the news. Vash suppressed the need to snort.

"Yes. Yao is leading them," General Winter assured, looking up at Roderick from his prostrate position. "This has been confirmed by reports from numerous scouts. He's moving steadily in this direction. His intent seems to be to take the Imperial City. We will begin setting up the necessary defences."

"Very well," Roderick said with a slight nod. "But use the regular palace guard and only one regiment of soldiers."

"But –."

"No, no more," Roderick stated firmly, his mouth thinning the only sign of his displeasure at being questioned. "The rest of the army will go to confront Yao and his forces before they destroy anymore settlements. You will also conscript from all provinces, I will not take any chances. Should things go badly, I want to have a new army in reserve."

General Winter grimaced, but nodded in compliance, standing and leaving the room as abruptly as he had entered. Vash glared sullenly at his smashed tea cup and the puddle of cooling liquid it lay in, refusing to look at Roderick as the man retook his seat next to him. Even when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder in an attempt to gain his attention, Vash did no more than intensify his glare and stare more pointedly at his spilt drink. A sigh sounded from Roderick.

"Vash," the emperor began softly, so as not to allow the rest of the court to overhear. Vash made a disgruntled sound in his throat and finally turned his glowering face toward the man.

"I will need you to ride out as one of the conscription parties."

Vash opened his mouth to protest, vehemently, but a soft finger tip was pressed to his lips.

"Please, Vash," Roderick asked, following with a soft kiss to Vash's cheek and Vash could feel his anger slipping away. "As my Consort, I need you to oversee the training of the new recruits and report to me while I deal with the war council."

Vash sighed, the only sign of acquiescence he would give, frown turning into a slight pout, though he would deny it later. He felt the lips that still lingered against his cheek quirk into a pleased smile and he could do nothing more than roll his eyes.

"What of that son of yours?" Vash questioned, somewhat pleased to feel Roderick stiffen beside him. The crown prince was always a touchy topic and Vash took a certain amount of joy in cracking the emperor's irritatingly calm demeanour. "Since he joined the imperial army, he will most likely insist on riding out with them to confront Yao and his men."

"That particular problem will be dealt with," Roderick snapped out and Vash shivered in delight at the harsh tones that were usually absent from the emperor's voice.

Vash was more than content to let the topic drop and spent the rest of breakfast with a fresh cup of tea (the broken one long cleared away by a servant), enjoying the jerky movements of the man next to him. Though the emperor's face had regained its usual impassiveness, the quick snap in his movements belied the anger simmering just below the surface. Vash smirked into his cup, the day had begun poorly, but any day he managed to irritate his partner was destined to be a good one.

Closing A/N: This is just meant as a prologue, none of these characters play any major role until the very end, though some short interludes may occur sporadically depending on my mood and the whisperings of my muse.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: the first of the main supporting characters makes his appearance! This bit is pretty short, the next should be much longer, but since we're still introducing characters the longest chapters won't start for a while.

Warnings for this chapter: themes of slavery  
>Pairings for this chapter: none<p>

Chapter One: A Familiar Misfortune

The main street of Ronda was hazy with dust in the morning light. Even at this early hour, a certain heat could be felt, hinting at another scorching summer day. The market was just starting to come to life, though with an undercurrent of excitement not normally present. Today was the annual Match Ceremony, where all the of age young women and men destined to become as Consorts were presented to the local matchmaker, who would evaluate them based on appearance and disposition and enter them into the archive.

One stand in particular was already open for business, even though the sun had yet to even fully break the horizon. Behind the stand where the merchant was talking animatedly to a crowd of eager parents were rows of cages. Each cage held what appeared to be miniature people, though on closer inspection one would notice that these mini-people sported rather animalistic appendages.

"Can't be a Consort without a Familiar!" the man cried enthusiastically. "And you won't find a finer selection within the province!"

The Familiars in the cages shifted nervously as the crowd of parents approached to inspect them, each intent on buying the perfect one for their child in the hopes that it would encourage a mage of great power and social standing to select their child in particular. If you wanted to move up in the world, but had no magical heritage, the only hope was to marry into a magical family. Such was the system of the empire; all the high ranking families were mages, all the lowly commoners were normals. The only way for a normal to attain rank was to become a mage's Consort. If someone was able to bond a familiar and passed the inspection of the matchmaker, their profile would be added to the imperial Consort archive, where mages could access them and choose whomever they willed.

An old lady shuffled among the cages farther to the back, outside the crowd of over-excited people clamouring at the front where all the most desirable Familiars were displayed. Her grandson was among this year's candidates, and though their family couldn't afford a truly marvellous and fancy Familiar, she intended to pick one as suited to her precious grandchild as possible. All the cages she passed held dirty and tired looking figures, each one old enough to have been on the market for quite some time, unpicked year after year until the cages had almost rusted shut with them inside.

Just as the elderly woman was about to give up and see if any of the better Familiars were left – maybe the merchant would be willing to take a lower price on a left-over – a small shock of blue-gray caught her eye. There, practically hidden in the shadows of the back of the room, was a cage with a small figure. Small even by Familiar terms, the young boy inside barely tall enough to reach the shrunken woman's knees. He was a cricket Familiar, by the looks of him, and possessed a set of light blue antennae, small bits of armoured skin over his elbows, knees, the backs of his hands and feet, and a smattering over his mid-section. The crowning feature was the gossamer wings, catching in the small amount of light that filtered back from the stall's entrance. The boy's human features were much less striking, almost forgettable. He had dull blonde hair that fell to his chin and half-covered his purple eyes. Even the odd eye colour seemed bland somehow, as they peered up at the woman.

The old lady nodded to herself and picked up the cage. Though the Familiar was small and bland, crickets were considered creatures that brought good fortune, and her grandson could use all the luck he could get. The poor boy tried hard, but he was clumsy, always late, brash, and quick to temper, all traits frowned upon in a Consort. In most cases such as his, enlistment in the military or staying to work in the family was often considered, but unfortunately for her grandson he had been born part female as well as very slender and effeminate in appearance. This barred him from entrance to the army, and he was far too tiny to be of much use in labour on the family farm. So trying to become a Consort was the decision his parents had made.

Carrying the cage back to the front of the stall, the merchant looked at her in surprise, but accepted the offered coins and presented the necessary key for the cage and the ribbon that held the spell to bond the cricket to her grandson.

As she hobbled slowly back to one of the ceremony preparation houses, the lady glanced down at her purchase. The boy was looking much livelier now that he was out of the dark and musty stall. His eyes met hers again and he offered a shy smile, which was so sweet on his tiny face that she couldn't help but smile back.

"What is your name cricket?" she asked kindly. "I need to be able to introduce you to my grandson."

The cricket stared at her for a long moment, a hand coming up to tug nervously at a long cowlick that protruded messily from his bangs. Finally, he opened his mouth and answered her in a soft, whispy voice.

"Matthew."


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Finally! We meet the first of the main characters. Hopefully the story hasn't been too slow to start for anyone, I tend to take my time with plot sometimes.

Warnings for this chapter: Fem!France, Hemaphrodite!America, something way too awesome.

Pairings for this chapter: FrUK

Chapter Two: Under the Matchmaker's Thumb

A beam of morning sunlight crept through the gap between the curtains that never could be fully closed, no matter how much time was spent tugging them into place. The sliver of bright light was what disturbed the bundle of blankets on the bed and a head of mussed golden hair popped out from the mass of cloth. Blue eyes glared balefully at the curtains before the figure slumped back down and rolled out of the sunbeam that disturbed his sleep. Just as he was relaxing back into the bliss of sleep, the blankets were ripped away and a torrent of cold water came down over him. His high shriek nearly managed to drown out the angry voice of his father.

"Alfred!" the bushy-browed man yelled. "Why are you still here? You're mother asked you to meet her in town over an hour ago!"

The angry words snapped Alfred out of his cold, damp misery.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, running out the door in his soaked sleep-clothes, heading for the stables. A sharp cry of "Language!" followed him across the yard.

In the stables, Alfred found his black stallion, Khan, already saddled and waiting for him. Obviously his father had anticipated his penchant for tardiness and had thought to ready the animal before waking his son. Alfred hauled his soaked self into the saddle and kicked the horse into motion, trotting across the yard and breaking into a canter as soon as they cleared the gate of the farm.

It was a beautiful morning, the cool of the night in the process of fading into the heat of the coming day, but Alfred barely noticed it, too busy worrying over his mother and grandmother's reactions to his lateness and wincing as his damp clothing chaffed his skin with the motions of the saddle. He had no doubt that his thighs would sport angry rashes for days after this. He was lucky in that he was expected to wear dresses, because if he were fully male and required by society to wear pants, he had no doubt that the building rashes would be even more miserable in the days to come.

As expected, his mother was waiting impatiently outside the preparation building, a frown creasing her usually smooth and beautiful face. Alfred much more resembled his mother than his father, sharing her bright golden hair, sky-blue eyes, and thin waifish figure. He was always thankful that he took after his mother so much, especially so whenever he glanced at the fuzzy growths that were his father's eyebrows. However different his mother and father, they always seemed made for each other, even though they fought often. Arthur could often be seen sleeping the night on a palate laid out in the front room, but he still brought Francis a cup of hot tea every morning as an apology, even when she was in the wrong (though that very rarely was the case – "Women are always right Alfred, remember that!")

Alfred dismounted quickly and ran up to his mother, an apology already forming on his lips. Before he could even get the words out, though, Francis was tugging him by the arm into the building.

"Alfred, you're soaking!" Francis exclaimed in distaste as she dragged him over to the bathing rooms, tubs of steaming water waiting.

"Dad dumped water on me," Alfred muttered, already stripping off his wet sleep clothes so he could hop into the wonderfully warm water.

Francis snorted, rolling her eyes and manhandling her son into the nearest tub. Once he was settled in the water, she proceeded to dump in the cleansing salts waiting in small buckets set on the floor. Each bucket was next to a different tub and Alfred would have to go through all of them, the salts part of a ritual to ready his body for bonding to a Familiar. The salts smelled awful, and Alfred was half ready to climb out of the tub and call off the whole thing. Only, he knew that this was his one chance to help his family. If he became the Consort of a powerful mage, his family would get the benefits of being in-laws to an influential family. Since he couldn't help much around the farm, and his partial femininity barred him from entrance into the military, he either had to become a Consort or be a burden to his family. He would do anything to avoid becoming a burden.

Thankfully, as the baths progressed, not all the salts smelt terrible, but none of them had a scent that could be considered pleasant. The bathing process took the most time out of the preparations and could not be rushed, but as soon as Alfred was out of the last tub and dry, he was whisked away by attendants in a whirlwind of cloth and face paints. It seemed like no time at all before he was standing in front of his mother and grandmother dressed in a robe of sleek red silk with black embroideries, his face pale with powder and his eyes rimmed in gold dust. He glanced excitedly at the cage his grandmother held. The only part of becoming a Consort he was eager for, the acquisition of a Familiar, was about to occur. Francis approached with a small ribbon, which she coiled around his wrist and tied off. As soon as the knot was complete, the spell woven into the threads of the ribbon triggered and the material melted into Alfred's skin, leaving no trace of its existence, but for a small rune on the underside of his wrist.

Almost immediately, Alfred felt a tiny presence in the back of his mind. It was a curious feeling, having another consciousness partially sharing his mind, and Alfred moved forward to look in the cage at the Familiar that was now bound to him for life. Dull purple eyes stared back at him from behind dirty blonde hair and Alfred felt a moment of strange disappointment, but as he continued to stare, the little cricket lifted a hand in greeting. Alfred smiled at the small creature and opened the cage to pull the cricket into his arms.

"His name is Matthew," his grandmother spoke, beaming at the picture the two made, Alfred holding the small being.

Matthew squirmed in Alfred's arms and the moment was broken. The clock on the wall showed that only a few precious minutes remained before Alfred would be late for his meeting with the matchmaker and Francis wasted no time in hurrying her son and his new Familiar out the doors and down the street.

The Familiar trotted along obediently by Alfred's heels, so close that Matthew was almost lost from sight in the billowing folds of the ceremonial robes. Matthew disliked the crowded and bright street and he couldn't fight the feeling that his new master was headed somewhere he wasn't meant to be. Matthew also knew that as a cricket, he was more in tune with the strings of fate entwined in people's lives. It was why people considered crickets lucky, because good fortune seemed to fall into the laps of people associated with them. Unfortunately, this wasn't enough to make the otherwise weak creatures popular as Familiars and, more often than not, a cricket would spend its days in a cage, watching the rust build over years of neglect.

Just as they were passing into the main square, where the matchmaker's building resided, Matthew caught a flash of brilliant white down a small alley. He hesitated, torn between the need to follow his master and the tugging in his heart that insisted he should investigate the white thing. Looking back to his master, he found that Alfred and Francis were already across the square and lining up among the other parents and the Consorts-to-be. The combination of his unease over his master seeing the matchmaker and the need to see what was in the alley won out and Matthew jogged off, leaving his new master in the square.

Matthew moved quickly, dodging questionable puddles, piles of trash, and broken bottles. His guilt over leaving his master was building and he knew he'd have to return to Alfred soon. But first he just had to –

"Oh!" the young cricket exclaimed, staring in awe at the glorious creature slumped in the gutter. The man was extraordinary, with hair whiter than snow and skin like porcelain. Though he was unconscious and Matthew could not see his eyes, he was sure they were just as splendid as the rest of the other's features. The slumped figure was also a Familiar, a dragon to be precise, with delicately pointed ears, a long and curling tail, and deadly looking claws tipping his fingers and toes.

It was curious, that a Familiar of such a rare and expensive breed was discarded in a gutter. It was even more curious, Matthew decided, that the Familiar appeared to be unbounded, with no mark adorning either of his wrists to indicate attachment like Matthew had. Unable to help himself, the cricket leaned down and cupped the cheek of the stranger. Eyes fluttered and Matthew drew back sharply. He froze as deep red irises focused on him. They stared at each other for a few precious seconds, then Matthew found himself pinned down onto the grimy surface of the alley.

"Wha-what are you _doing_!" Matthew squeaked out in shock, attempting without success to push the dragon off of him.

"Making sure you can't get the awesome me caught!" the dragon growled, glancing frantically up and down the alley. "Where's your master?"

"In the square, for the ceremony," Matthew admitted, looking off in said direction, briefly forgotten guilt returning tenfold. "I shouldn't be here. I need to go!"

Matthew redoubled his efforts to get up, and miraculously managed to squirm out from under the larger and more powerful Familiar. Without a backwards glance, Matthew raced towards the square and Alfred, unaware of the red-eyed stranger watching him leave with curiosity.

Alfred stood in line nervously, watching the matchmaker move down the line, recording the names of each participant and the name and breed of their Familiar. It seemed like no time at all before it was his turn to give his name.

"Name?" the matchmaker asked bluntly. She was a stern-looking woman, with thin spectacles perked on her pencil thin nose, a feature which clashed oddly with her wide face.

"Alfred Jones," he stated, trying to keep his nervousness from his voice.

"Name and breed of Familiar?" she asked next, glancing at the ground by his feet and frowning. Alfred looked down to as felt a surge of panic. Matthew was missing.

"Mom!" Alfred yelped. "Matthew's missing!"

Francis' eyes shot to the ground and for the first time in his life Alfred heard his mother swear – loud enough to put shocked expressions on the neighbouring participants.

"No Familiar –"

"No! I have one!" Alfred protested, only to be ignored as the woman ploughed on.

" – no Consort registration."

Alfred felt his stomach sink past his feet, not daring to look at his mother or the people around him. He could already feel the judgmental and mocking stares, his mother's disappointment. This had been his one chance and – .

Alfred turned and ran from the square, pushing past people angrily as he fought the hot prick of tears in the corners of his eyes. Near the back of the crowd, he found his small Familiar desperately trying to push past people. Alfred almost left him, frustrated anger momentarily focused on the small creature. But when those scared purple eyes connected with his, he couldn't bring himself to blame the poor creature; Matthew was as much a misfit as Alfred, being a small and weak form of Familiar. Alfred slowed his angry run long enough to scoop up Matthew, then carried on, not stopping until he reached the gates to his family's farm on the outskirts of the village. His lungs burnt and he had sweat running down his face. As he pushed open the gates, he cursed himself for leaving Khan in the stables beside the preparation buildings, but couldn't bring himself to go back for the horse. His mother would remember to bring Khan.

Inside the gates, Alfred kept his eyes firmly on the ground, dropping Matthew and rushing past his father waiting on the porch, not slowing again until he was staring into the waters of the pond at the far edge of the cow pasture.

Alfred didn't know how long he sat staring at his reflection in the pond, glaring at the make-up that softened his features and the oils that kept his usually ruffled hair sleek. In a fit of resentment at the image reflected back at him, Alfred leapt into the pond, fully clothed. He let the ruined silks float around him and scrubbed furiously at his face and hair until he was sure that all the powder and oil was gone and that the tear tracks were no longer visible.

Moving to climb out of the pond, Alfred turned only to find a miserable little cricket sitting on the bank and watching him. Alfred waded over to his Familiar and plopped himself down, wet silks and all, by Matthew's side.

"I'm sorry," Matthew started in a small voice.

"S'okay," Alfred replied, his voice hoarse from the crying and the long run. "Didn't really want to be a Consort anyway, just didn't want to be a burden to my parents."

"I shouldn't have left you though," Matthew mumbled, staring at his feet. "I think I'm broken. Crickets are supposed to bring luck."

Alfred smiled at the sulky tone in the small, soft voice. He had a feeling that the poor creature was almost more upset about the results of the day than he was.

"Like I said," Alfred smiled down at Matthew, prodding him gently in the side and earning a small giggle and a squirm. "Didn't want it anyway."

The two smiled at each other and lapsed into a comfortable silence. The sun was beginning to reach its midday peak and Alfred's stomach gave a loud grumble. He had missed breakfast that morning and if he didn't head back soon he would miss lunch too.

"Gotta face the parents eventually," Alfred grumbled, standing and brushing off his wet and dirty robe as best he could.

Matthew stood next to him and they both started to walk back at a slow pace, enjoying the last of the peace before the inevitable confrontation. Halfway across the pasture, the village message drum started to pound out the beat signalling the arrival of an imperial messenger.


	4. Chapter 3

Warnings for this chapter: Fem!France, Hermaphrodite!Alfred

Pairings for his chapter: FrUK, mild PruCan (if you squint really hard)

Chapter Three: Conscription

The deep beats of the drum echoed across the field and Alfred could make out the figures of his parents opening he front gates to listen to the proclamation. Picking up his pace, Alfred made for the gates, forgetting Matthew in his haste. For his part, the cricket let his new master hurry off and continued his slow walk, still wallowing in guilt for Alfred's current lack of Consort status.

Alfred was about to move through the gates when his father appeared in front of him, pushing him back inside.

"Stay here," Arthur commanded gruffly, scowling first at Alfred and then off in the direction of the message drum.

"But – "

But his father was gone again, off into the gathering crowd. Growling in frustration, Alfred jogged over to one of the great oaks that lined the inside of the wall around the family property and began climbing. He would find out what was happening, whether his father wanted him to or not. This was hardly the first time Arthur had tried to shelter him and Alfred had managed this climb many times before. He hadn't counted on the difficulties of climbing in a damp silk robe though, and by the time he was high enough to see over the wall, the messenger had already started. Alfred was startled to see that the Imperial Consort himself had come to make the announcement.

"Citizens of the Western Empire," the man was already calling over the crowd. "The Eastern Kingdom has invaded and managed to take our eastern border. By order of His Imperial Majesty, Roderick Edelstein, one man from every family in the empire must serve in the army for the duration of this invasion."

Alfred felt a wave of unease course through him. Surely his family wouldn't be required to serve? His father had served before and had been discharged due to a debilitating injury and no one else in the family was eligible to join by law. Alfred held his breath as families were listed off in alphabetical order.

"Kirkland."

The name seemed to echo in Alfred's mind and he watched with growing nausea as his father walked slowly forward to hide the slight limp that still remained from his previous injury. He glanced down at his mother and found her staring back at him. Alfred and Francis exchanged worried glances before going back to watching Arthur as he walked back from the imperial party holding his conscription notice. Once through the gates, Alfred ran up to his parents.

"You're not actually going to go?" Alfred demanded, looking back and forth between Francis and Arthur. "I mean, you're not recovered from the last time."

Arthur ignored Alfred and shrugged off Francis' worried hands, walking away from them both toward the shed where he stored his old sword and armour set from his days as an imperial soldier.

"He's actually going, isn't he?" Alfred asked his mother softly.

"Yes," Francis replied, her mouth twisting in frustration. "We could argue his case, but I'm sure he won't allow it."

Alfred bit his lip as he watched his father pile the armour and sword outside and fetch a kit to polish and clean the set. He paused, a thought occurring to him, and smoothed a hand over the petite bumps on his chest that were barely noticeable, but marked him visibly as not being entirely male. He breasts were small enough, that if bound tightly...

"Mom," Alfred began quietly, hands still cupped over his chest lightly. Francis looked at him inquiringly, recognizing her sons tone as the one where he was considering something he knew would cause trouble. "I'm male...mostly. And I could easily bind myself... What if I take father's place? No one would recognize me as anything but a boy, especially wearing training gear or armour."

Francis looked as if she were about to argue and reject his idea, but paused with a thoughtful look. Alfred felt a thrill of triumph, knowing that he had inherited his penchant for mischief from his mother. The idea was particularly good in that they had never advertised Alfred's condition to any of the other members of the village.

"No one outside the family would know," she murmured thoughtfully, distractedly twisting some of her long hair around a finger. "You could leave tonight, after your father is asleep. I will teach you to bind your chest now, while Arthur is busy with his armour."

With that, Francis took Alfred by the arm and led him into the house.

Matthew wandered slowly along the edge of the stables, watching as Alfred climbed an oak tree along the front wall to see the activity in the road outside. His new master was exuberant and loud, but in a charming way. Matthew supposed that, if the right mage had chosen him, Alfred would have made an excellent Consort.

With that thought, Matthew returned to sulking. He had spent many a night praying to get picked so he wouldn't spend his days rotting in a cage, always promising that he'd be the best Familiar anyone had ever had, if he could only have the chance. And he had messed up everything. Obviously the luckiness that most crickets had from feeling the strings of fate had been reversed in him. He had been so sure that it was important to go down that alley way. Yet all he had found was a rude, renegade Familiar...

Matthew yelped as his thoughts were cut off abruptly, hands wrapping around his arms and dragging him back into a shadowy corner of the stables. The hands released him just as quickly and the young cricket found himself over balancing and landing hard on his back. Staring down at his prone form was the dragon from the alley way, red eyes glimmering eerily in the half-light.

"You alright kid?" the dragon asked, his voice as loud and obnoxious as Matthew remembered.

"No," Matthew growled, rubbing his back as he sat up, glaring at the white creature with narrowed eyes. "This is the second time in one day that you've caused me to end up like this."

"On your back?" the larger Familiar asked with a leer and a suggestive wiggle of his brows. "If you wanted some of my awesomeness you could have just asked."

Matthew made a gagging sound and pushed up off the ground, intending to leave the unbearably egotistical being to skulk in the shadows of the stable. A hand on his arm and a confusing few seconds later and Matthew found himself pinned to the wall by clawed hands, his delicate wings crushed uncomfortably to his back.

"Hold up kid, I'm not done with you yet," the dragon said, reaching up to tug at one Matthew's antennae. "I got a proposition for you, kid."

"What?" Matthew snapped, irritated. "Just who the hell are you anyway?"

"Name's Gilbert," the dragon proclaimed with pride, standing a little taller and pushing out his chest. "And I escaped from some dumb merchant who thought he could sell the awesome me."

Matthew rolled his eyes; he had yet to see any reason to support this Familiar's – Gilbert's – supposed awesomeness. He wasn't about to hold his breath either.

"Only, it's kinda hard to run around as a free Familiar," Gilbert continued, ignoring Matthew's facial expressions. "So, I need you to get your master to let me stick around...uh...say what's your name, kid?"

"Matthew. And I see no reason to let you anywhere near my master."

"Ouch kid, hold up a second," Gilbert protested, releasing Matthew and stepping back to allow the cricket to release the pressure on his wings. "I'm a dragon aren't I?"

"So...?"

"So, I have magic just like human mages," Gilbert rolled his eyes, as if this explained everything. When Matthew just continued staring he sighed and went on. "I can, you know, help you get your master out of this dump and into society, like he would have been if you hadn't ditched him during the ceremony today."

Matthew flinched, his guilt flooding him again.

"You saw that?"

"Kid, the entire village saw the matchmaker kick Alfred out of the line," Gilbert said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So what do you say? Alfred'll be pretty hard for a mage to resist if he not only has two Familiar's, but a dragon to boot."

Matthew hesitated a second longer, wondering if Alfred would actually go for it, before nodding and motioning Gilbert to follow him. At the entrance to the stables, Matthew peeked out to ensure that no one was around. The excitement over the imperial messenger seemed to be over, the gates were closed and Alfred was nowhere in sight. Only his master's father was out, but he was too wrapped up in cleaning a set of armour to take notice of the two small beings.

Matthew gripped Gilbert by his wrist and dragged the dragon quickly across the yard and in the front door of the house. Here, Matthew paused. He had no idea where Alfred's room was, but could see both Alfred and his mother through the slightly cracked door of what seemed to be the master bedroom. The house wasn't that big, so Matthew decided to just search each room.

He knew Alfred's room as soon as they stepped inside, clothing draped haphazardly over the bed and floor, along with pieces of parchment and a couple broken quills. Pulling Gilbert into the room, he shut the door behind them.

"You'll have to wait here until after dinner," Matthew cautioned, nervous over his master's reaction to the situation. He had already failed Alfred once today, after all. "I can try to sneak some food. Please don't touch anything or make too much noise."

Without waiting for a reply, Matthew darted out and shut the door behind him, leaving to join Alfred and his mother.

Alfred watched as his mother dug through her dowry chest, wondering what she could possibly be searching for. He knew his mother could be rather eccentric, but he wasn't sure how anything kept in a dowry chest could possibly aide him in pretending to be completely male.

"Ha!" Francis exclaimed as she stood up from the chest, a bundle clasped in her arms.

The bundle appeared to be a long length of sturdy cloth, but on closer inspection, Alfred saw small spell runes imprinted along it at random intervals. He looked up at his mother questioningly from his seat on the bed.

"This cloth was a gift from my uncle," Francis explained, dropping it on the bed and pulling Alfred out of his ruined robe. "He was a mage, my mother's sister's husband. He made it during the revolution in the southern provinces that happened when I was young."

Alfred nodded, he had known from his mother's accent that she wasn't from any of the more central provinces, like the one in which they lived. He had also heard her mention the revolution quietly once or twice.

"Because of the revolution, the borders between provinces were closed and escape north was almost impossible," his mother continued the story. "My uncle made this so I could disguise myself as a boy and enlist as an aide to one of the imperial soldiers sent to settle the dispute. They had free passage across borders and the man I was assigned to help was on his way back home due to an injury to his leg."

Alfred paused, in the middle of helping Francis undress him. He felt a small thrill of understanding and looked to his mother who was watching his with a knowing smile.

"Yes," she said in answer to his wondering expression. "The soldier was your father. He didn't want me as his aide at first, called me a weak little whelp. Imagine his surprise when he found I was a woman." Francis paused to giggle lightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He could have had me executed, instead he married me."

Alfred had not known that his mother and father's marriage had resulted from such a tale of romance and deceit. He could hardly imagine his strict, by-the-law father doing anything so adventurous. Francis began wrapping Alfred's chest with the cloth. As she tied it off, the runes activated and the whole thing shrank until his small breasts were pressed flat as could be. Francis smiled at the shock on her son's face. Both, however, jump and made to hide Alfred's state when the door creaked behind them, only relaxing once they realized it was Matthew.

The small Familiar gazed at them with curiosity, only moving into the room when Alfred motioned for the cricket to join them on the bed. Matthew scrambled up to sit beside his master, poking at the strange binding wrapped around his chest.

"What's this?"

"It's to hide my breasts," Alfred answered, biting his lip as he considered how to broach the subject with his new Familiar. "My father has been enlisted to fight in the imperial army, since the Eastern Kingdom has invaded. I'm going to take his place, because he's injured."

Matthew remembered the armour Alfred's father had been cleaning.

"Your father doesn't know?"

Alfred blushed lightly and shook his head, tugging nervously at his cowlick.

"No," he replied. "He wouldn't let me go. Technically I can't join the military, because I'm not completely male. If I get caught, the best I can expect is a life spent in jail, the worst an execution."

Matthew nodded in understanding, considering the pulls he felt in his heart. Just like this morning when he was pulled to Gilbert, he was feeling the pull to continue with Alfred's plan. With Gilbert along with them, there was a better chance of not being noticed, the dragon's magic capable of protecting them. Perhaps Matthew wasn't as broken as he had thought.

The sound of Arthur entering the house put the three into a scramble. Francis quickly dressed Alfred, leaving the binding in place so that he was ready to leave as soon as everyone was in bed for the night. Matthew stood guard at the door, watching as he man entered the kitchen and started talking to Alfred's grandmother instead of coming toward the bedroom. The clattering sounds of dishes sounded along with the murmur of conversation as the table was set for dinner.

When the three emerged and moved into the kitchen, food was already on the table. Matthew was quietly introduced to Arthur and no mention of the debacle that had occurred that morning was made. The dinner itself was a tense and quiet affair, no one wanting to talk about the conscription or the failed attempt at becoming a Consort.

Matthew concentrated on slipping small items of food into his lap; half a piece of bread with some butter, a small chunk of cheese, and two of the grapes that were put out for dessert. Unfortunately, the main course had been soup and he cricket had no way of sneaking any for the dragon waiting in Alfred's room.

Alfred noticed the food his Familiar was secreting away, but made no mention of it. He was curious, because they would not need it for their journey, the military encampment being only a day's ride out toward the provincial capital, but he didn't want to draw attention by asking. He also noticed his mother sneaking some kind of powder into the tea cups for his grandmother and father, both of whom enjoyed an evening cup before bed, though neither Francis nor Alfred cared for the beverage.

Excusing himself, Alfred nudged Matthew and the two of them left for his bedroom. Matthew seemed to grow more and more anxious as they approached the room, avoiding any eye-contact Alfred attempted to initiate. Matthew was still carrying the napkin full of food.

Upon entering the room, Alfred felt both momentary shock and understanding. There, curled asleep on his bed, was a dragon, the pure white or its scales and hair seeming to glow in the darkness of his room.

"What – ?"

But Matthew made a shushing sound and motioned for Alfred to shut the door. Once the door was shut, Alfred fumbled for a match and lit the candle resting on his bedside table. This done he, turned to find Matthew prodding the other Familiar awake and offering the sleepy dragon the food he had snuck from dinner. The dragon took the food, giving Alfred a jaunty wave as he stuffed his face.

"Care to explain?" Alfred asked, turning to look at a blushing Matthew.

"I found him this morning, unconscious in an alley," Matthew confessed, twisting the napkin he was holding. "It's why I wasn't with you when I should have been. It felt like the right thing to do...becoming a Consort felt wrong.'

Alfred blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected Matthew to admit that he had purposefully wandered off. Instead of feeling anger, as he had expected, Alfred felt relieved. If he was a registered Consort then his plan to enter the army in his father's place would not be possible.

"His name's Gilbert and he's not bonded to anyone," Matthew explained. "He can help us with getting you into the army without being caught."

"We're joining the army?" Gilbert asked, having finished the last of the grapes. His face split into a trickster's grin. "Sounds fun."

Gilbert fished around in one of the pockets of his ratty clothing, pulling out a length of ribbon. "Nicked this off the guy who tried to sell me, should work even without all those nasty salt baths and stuff."

Alfred stared at the ribbon being offered him.

"Is it even possible to have two Familiars?" Alfred questioned, glancing down at the mark already adorning one wrist.

"Of course it is, 'Gilbert replied, rolling his eyes like it was common knowledge. "You got two wrists don't ya?"

"I suppose," Alfred frowned, accepting the proffered ribbon and tying it around the wrist hat bore no mark. With a flash, the ribbon disappeared and a headache exploded behind Alfred's eyes, nausea coiling in his stomach. Twin groans from beside him indicated that Matthew and Gilbert were experience similar misfortunes.

"Guess that's what the baths and stinky salts are for," Gilbert chuckled, still clutching his head and stomach. Matthew glared at the dragon, taking the opportunity to kick the other Familiar in the shin. The grunt of pain he got in return was satisfying.

"So what now?" Gilbert inquired, flopping back onto the bed as the symptoms of the unprepared bonding passed.

"We wait."


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: This one is pretty short, but it seemed like a good place to end it. Next time our main pair will actually meet...finally. Also, I won't have internet access over the weekend, so the next chapter may not be up for a while. Sorry guys. Your reviews give me the will to go on though :P I think I could live off them.

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of death

Pairings: Edelweiss, FrUK (implied), PruCan

Chapter Four: Through the Night

The doors to the council room closed behind the last straggling member of the war council and Ivan sighed gratefully. The sooner this council session was over, the sooner he could ride out with the imperial troops to confront the invading Easterners. Of course, he expected his father to try and stop him, just as he had tried to stop Ivan from joining the army in the first place.

As if sensing Ivan's thoughts, the emperor turned to regard his son coolly from his position at the head of the long table. Normally the crown prince would be seated to the emperor's left – the right being reserved for the Imperial Consort – but Ivan had not held that seat for years now, ever since his mother had died and he had chosen the life of a soldier. Now, the seat sat empty; no second-in-line to give the honour to and no council member stupid enough to try and fill the vacancy.

All eyes shifted as the emperor raised a hand, indicating the council to be in session. Next to him, Vash stood to begin his report on the status of conscripted troops.

"The notices have been delivered throughout all the provinces and new conscripts have already started to arrive at the training camps..."

Vash's account continued and Ivan tuned it out, staring aimlessly around the room. He wished that Toris, his best friend since childhood and fellow soldier, was in attendance with him. At least then he would have someone to share his boredom with. But the man had been promoted to Captain and sent off to the training camp in the southern provinces to prepare the new recruits. Ivan didn't envy the man, having to deal with all the young men, with their arrogance and stupidity.

A sharp jab to his side drew him from his wandering thoughts and Ivan glanced down to find Vash's annoying eagle Familiar glaring at him reproachfully for ignoring her master's speech. Looking up at the man, Ivan found that he too was watching the prince with a frown of irritation. Ivan rolled his eyes and pushed the small creature away, using a small ice spell to freeze her feet in place so she could no longer bother him.

Vash's report cut off abruptly as the man snarled and stormed over to where his Familiar was desperately trying to free her feet from the ice holding her in place. As Vash set about freeing his eagle, Ivan watched his father rise from his seat. Just from the look on the man's normally stoic face, Ivan could tell that things were about to get interesting.

"Ivan" his father began slowly, his voice tight from anger. "I had hoped to save this for the end of the meeting, but I should have known your immaturity would not allow it."

Ivan sighed. He had known his father planned to deny his right to accompany the troops. He could understand his father's frustration, in a way. For an emperor to have only one child was a problem in and of itself, but one who refused to take a Consort and instead spent his time as a war mage with the army was even worse. Still, he had chosen his path and he would not allow his father to force him to change.

"The General and I have discussed your situation," Roderick continued while Ivan shot a heated glare at the General, who refused to meet his eyes. "And it has been decided that you shall be promoted to Captain and sent to train the new recruits from the central provinces."

At this, Ivan's gaze shot back to his father, eyes wide with indignation. Before he could protest however, he was presented with a new sword and the medals and sashes to represent his station. Biting back the angry words poised to fall, Ivan nodded his acquiescence and left the meeting. If he was to train the recruits, then he would have to leave tonight if he wished to arrive on schedule. His father may have managed to remove him from accompanying the army, but Ivan had dedicated his life to the army and he would fulfill his new position to the best of his abilities.

As he stalked down the palace halls, servants and courtiers alike fled from the chill that emanated from him. It was rumoured that his affinity for ice was why he didn't take a Consort, too cold to care for another, and Ivan let the rumour go. It was easier for people to believe he didn't care than to let them know he was scared to hurt someone else in his life.

Ivan's brow creased as he opened the door to the stables and made to ready his charger. The horse wasn't bothered by the wave of cold air or the frost that grew along the straw on the floor of the stall, too used to its master's frigid moods. Ivan was too caught up in memories, his mother's breathes, harsh from illness echoing in his mind. He had only been four at the time, too young to fully control his magic and too young to know that she was sick enough to die if exposed to the cold.

He had crawled in with her one night, hoping to keep her company while she was so sick. She had welcomed him, pulling his small body into her arms, and in the morning she had been delirious with fever. Ivan's last memory of his mother was of a woman having seizures from the intensity of the fever, doctors holding her down and trying to force medicines and healing spells upon her while his nursemaid and father dragged him from the room. Ten years later, Ivan had turned from his title as crown prince and joined the army, all to avoid the blame he could see in his father's eyes, the guilt he could feel in his heart.

Ivan saddled his charger and galloped off into the growing dark. If he rode through the night, he would make the camp by early morning and start the training.

Alfred jolted up from where he had been leaning back against the wall of his bedroom. He shook himself a few times, trying to rid his body of the claws of sleep. It wouldn't do if he failed to leave tonight because he fell asleep, especially when his mother had gone through so much trouble to get him ready.

Glancing at the crack under his door, Alfred saw that the lights in the house had been dowsed. Rising silently, with two sleeping Familiars cradled in his arms, he cracked the door and poked his head into the hall, listening for sounds from the rooms of his parents and grandmother. The house was quiet and Alfred took his chance, slipping down the hall into the kitchen, where his father's conscription notice rested lightly on the table next to a bag of men's clothing that his mother had left for him. He slipped the cricket and dragon into the bag, making sure they were well cushioned by the clothing inside, then shouldered the bag and let himself out the front door. Kahn was waiting in the stables, already saddled, with his father's sword and armour propped against the door to the horse's stall. If he survived this, he would have to find a way to properly thank his mother for all her help.

Carefully placing the sack on the floor, he tugged the clothes out from under the still sleeping Familiars and removed his dress. The trousers and shirt felt odd, a great change from the skirt and blouse he was used to wearing, but also freeing in a way he couldn't describe. Perhaps it had something to do with the air of the forbidden that accompanied this whole plan. Once the clothing was on, he went about strapping on the armour and tying the sword across the back of Kahn's saddle. The armour felt awkward and heavy, but Alfred knew he'd get used to it the longer he wore it.

Shouldering the bag that now held nothing but the two Familiars, Alfred mounted his horse and nudged him into a light trot across the yard, pausing only to open the gate, then they were off into the night.

Gilbert woke groggily, for a moment unsure of where he was. A quick glance around and he was about ready to panic. The last time he had awoken in a sack was when that merchant had captured him to be sold as a Familiar. A shifting of warmth beside him tore him from his semi-panic and he looked down to find a little cricket curled next to him.

The whole day came rushing back to him; escaping from the merchant, falling from the roof, waking up to this little cricket staring at him, all the way until he had been bonded to Alfred. Gilbert smirked at the tiny creature curled around him. He would have to tease Matthew later for being a cuddler. For now, he was going to enjoy the extra warmth as they travelled through the night and go back to sleep.

Barely aware of what he was doing, Gilbert snuggled back down into the bottom of the bag and wrapped his tail around the cricket's legs, tucking Matthew's head into his shoulder and closing his eyes for the night.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: For some reason this chapter just didn't want to be written, but hopefully it came out alright. Sorry for the long delay.

Warnings: hermaphrodite!Alfred

Pairings: None this time

Chapter Five: Into The Camp

Alfred stared nervously through the bushes at the entrance to the training camp. Even with the glow of the early morning sunlight making the place look much less intimidating than when he had arrived in the darkness of predawn, Alfred still sat hidden within the foliage. It was silly, he was sure, because he knew that he appeared male all the time unless naked, but it felt as though every man waiting among those tents would instantly know that Alfred was not allowed to be there.

A sharp pinch at his back had Alfred's attention away from his agonized musings and onto the restless Familiars in his rucksack. Though the sounds coming from the pair were muffled by the thick cloth, the annoyed tone was still distinct. Alfred backed away from the bushes into the forest where Kahn was waiting and dumped the sack onto the ground.

"What are you waiting for?" snapped an irritated Gilbert as he pushed his way through the tied opening at the top of the sack, Matthew's head popping up at his side. "An engraved invitation? You already have the conscription notice."

Matthew frowned up at the grumpy dragon and jabbed him in the side.

"We're committing treason against the empire," the cricket reminded Gilbert in a soft but firm voice. "He's allowed to be nervous."

"But if we're late for the start of training, it'll draw attention," Gilbert pointed out, his glance down to the other Familiar turning into a leer. "However, if you're gonna sit there in front of me on your knees, I suppose we could spare a few minutes."

Both Alfred and Matthew went red. Before Matthew and Gilbert could get any further in their argument, Alfred stuffed them back into the sack and grabbed Kahn's reigns.

"Gilbert's right, better not to waste time."

Alfred led Kahn through the woods up to the encampment. Just as he was about to clear the edge of the trees, an imperial stallion rode up to the camp gates. Alfred froze as he recognized the figure atop the horse. Suddenly it hit him, just how much trouble he would be in if caught, with the crown prince in charge of the camp. Alfred had known that the prince was in the army, but he had expected the prince to ride out with the troops, not to be put in charge of training new recruits.

It was far too late to turn back though. The guards at the gate had already sighted him at the edge of the trees, so Alfred took one last second to breathe a prayer to whichever god may be listening and left the cover of the trees to enter the camp.

The guards stopped him as he approached, a hand extended to receive Alfred's identification and notice of conscription. Alfred handed over the required documents and used the excuse of surveying the camp in front of him in order to avoid the eyes of the guards. He hoped no one looked too closely at his clothes, which we slightly too large on his frame, since they belonged to his father and the man was wider and taller than Alfred.

Alfred breathed a quiet sigh of relief when the guards waved him through without any further questioning, handing him a sack of military issue clothes and bedding. They grunted out some gruff directions as to where his tent was located and left him to go on his way. Momentarily forgetting about the Familiars in the sack already on his back, Alfred slung the new sack over his shoulder, wincing when he was pinched sharply in retribution for being bludgeoned.

Alfred took his time walking into the camp, warily watching as the prince moved off toward the largest of the tents. He dreaded the training that was scheduled to start later this afternoon; just watching the way the prince moved – like a lethal and cunning living weapon – and the cold sensation that followed the tall man made Alfred's hair raise along the back of his neck.

Alfred froze as the prince turned and violet eyes found his. He prince quirked a pale brow at him and Alfred quickly turned away, cheeks burning at being caught staring. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye as he began to move through rows of tents found the prince still watching him, a look of consideration coupled with a slight frown on his face. Alfred felt the nervousness from earlier return full force; somehow he felt he had given himself away to the prince in that brief moment of eye contact. Shaking his head over his own ridiculousness, Alfred slowed his pace to something less hurried, making note of the tent numbers as he passed them by. As he neared the end of the row, the numbers growing closer and closer to the one the guard had told him was his, a loud and bossy voice could be heard from within the third to last tent.

"Cousin, you like, can't put your stuff on the ground like that!" exclaimed a prissy, yet distinctly male voice. "You'll get grass and bugs and other totally icky things in your clothes."

A soft hum of acknowledgement was the closest to a verbal reply that came.

"And what about, like, a cloth to go under your bedroll, did they give you one of those?" the first voice continued. "Otherwise you'll wake up to damp blankets and like...oh, you have one...well if you would, like, unpack things in order maybe this wouldn't be taking so long."

Alfred felt a twinge of pity for whoever was suffering through the prissy voice's lecture. Upon realizing that this tent was the one directly next to his, he was unable to help his curiosity and peeked through the tent flaps of his neighbour. Inside were two blonde men, one with his hands on hips that were canted out to the side, the other kneeling on the ground and pulling sleeping supplies out of a bag. Both had their backs to Alfred. The man on the ground seemed to be the one who kept humming in response to the standing one's orders.

Just as Alfred was turning to leave the two to their rather one-sided conversation, the kneeling blonde turned to hand the ground cloth to the man standing behind him. Green eyes peered at him in question, and the standing blonde cut off in mid-tirade to turn and see who his cousin was looking at. Under the scrutiny of both, Alfred rubbed his head bashfully.

"Uh, sorry," he apologized, glancing over at his tent. "I must be the next tent down."

Alfred jumped as the standing blonde squealed and waved his hands.

"Eduard! We like, totally have a cute neighbour!" the man all but yelled in his excitement. He bounded up to Alfred and grabbed him by the hand, dragging him over to his tent and through the flaps.

"I'm Feliks and the other is my cousin, Eduard. Since I'm, like, already set up and everything, I can help you out."

Feliks grabbed both Alfred's sacks and slung them to the ground. Alfred hoped he hadn't notice the muffled yelps that had issued from his own bag. It was so early to be discovered, but Alfred was certain that, even though he wasn't technically a registered Consort, having Familiars – especially more than one, which was unheard of – would be enough to put him on trial for joining the army.

Feliks started tugging the bedding supplies out of the issued sack and laying them out on the ground. He tossed one of the training uniforms at Alfred.

"We're supposed to, like, start training in an hour or so, now that the captain has arrived. You might want to get changed...uh...say, what's your name?"

"Alfred. Um, could you...you know...give me some privacy to change?" Alfred asked, hoping Feliks wouldn't press the issue and just assume he was shy. No such luck.

"Honey, this is the army, there is no privacy," Feliks taunted, sticking out his tongue playfully. "Better get used to it now with me before you end up having to bathe with half the camp."

Alfred paled at the mention of bathing, clutching the uniform to his chest tightly and numbly watching as Feliks finished setting up his temporary bed. When Feliks stood up and saw Alfred gripping his clothing, face whiter than the bedding sheets that had just been spread out, he clucked his tongue and wiggled a finger under Alfred's nose in reprimand.

"This, like, won't do at all," the shorter blonde said, grabbing the uniform and moving to undo Alfred's shirt ties. "Here, I'll help you to get this totally lame clothing on. It's too bad for people like us, not having thicker builds; these clothes only come in standard sizes. We're going to look like we're wearing potato sacks."

As Feliks continued his lament of the poor fit and style of the training outfits, Alfred struggled to stop the man from removing his shirt. However, the man's fingers were like snakes and slithered around any of his efforts to push them away. Through his growing panic, Alfred saw his Familiars emerge from their sack and rush forward, intent on doing something to help Alfred.

But it was too late. Feliks froze as the shirt ties came loose and the wrapping that bound Alfred's chest was revealed. After a long silence, wherein Alfred desperately pulled his shirt closed and Feliks stood rooted to the spot by surprise, the other blonde finally recovered from his shock and started to grin.

"Surprise, surprise!" Feliks giggled in a hushed voice. "Don't worry, honey, I won't tell. So are you, like, totally female or...?"

"Between," Alfred admitted, still clutching his shirt closed, not quite able to process the fact that he wasn't about to be executed on his first day.

"This is, like, so super sneaky and exciting," Feliks gushed, practically bouncing in his enthusiasm. "This can be our, like, big secret and it'll be just like one of the stories but totally real!"

Much to Alfred's embarrassment, the other man went right back to attempting to help him get dressed for training. Alfred could see Matthew and Gilbert slowly backing away out of the corner of his eye, the cricket looking concerned and the dragon stifling his laughter. Alfred gave up on keeping Feliks from undressing him and motioned the two Familiars forward; if he was going to have a co-conspirator, then the other man might as well know everything.

Feliks frowned in confusion over Alfred's odd gesture and looked down at the ground. For the second time in the last few minutes, the shorter blonde froze. However his recovery this time was much faster and he squealed his delight.

"Oh! They're so totally cute! Are they both yours? I didn't know you could have more than one!"

Matthew waved shyly and edged behind Gilbert, who gave a jaunty salute in greeting, his lopsided smirk firmly in place. Alfred finished dressing while Feliks was distractedly prodding and petting his Familiars; one who was basking in the attention, while the other tried to hide. A small smile graced Alfred's lips as he watched the interaction. Having someone on his side, who knew everything and was still willing to help lifted some of the oppressive weight of the situation off his shoulders.

"The training is starting, are you two..."

A voice interrupted Feliks' antics and both he and Alfred – now fully dressed – turned hurriedly to the door. The blonde from the next tent stood peering through the flaps, his eyes wide and mouth ajar.

"Eduard!" Feliks exclaimed. "Umm, I can, like, totally explain..."


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: This one is kinda short, but I've been pretty busy lately and just wanted to get something posted.

Warnings: hermaphrodite!Alfred

Pairings: slight, mostly-not-there RusAme

Chapter Six: Trials in Training

Alfred nervously walked across the camp to the training yards, dawdling behind the two arguing blondes in front of him. Eduard had not said anything since he saw Alfred's Familiars, so Alfred was unsure as to where they stood with one another. He had the distinct feeling that he was walking to his death, with the prince that he just _knew_ was suspicious and his secret out to a man who had barely spoken five words to him.

Just before they entered the training field, where they could see the other recruits already lined up, Feliks and Eduard both turned to face him.

"Alright," Feliks announced imperiously. "So we've, like, decided that we're both fine with your whole disguise deal and we're going to help you, like, not get caught and all."

Even though Feliks had said that Eduard wasn't going to out him, Alfred couldn't help but notice the tension in the other man's body and his carefully blank face. However, Feliks elbowed his cousin sharply and the man relaxed with a grimace.

"The situation is dangerous for us," Eduard told Alfred, who nodded in understanding. "Knowing, yet choosing to keep your secret. But we will help you."

That said, Eduard nodded sharply and Alfred felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Now all he really had to worry about was not drawing the prince's attention. As soon as Alfred breathed out his sigh of relief, Feliks went back to his usual prissy self and started dragging Alfred toward the line-up, Eduard trailing after them bemusedly.

"This is so super exciting!" Feliks was babbling again. "Just like a great adventure. All you need is a tall, dark, and handsome beau with a mysterious past and we'd totally have an epic tale, like the kind written by the court authors!"

Alfred blushed and shushed Feliks. They were almost within earshot of the other recruits and the man's excessive chattering was louder than it should be considering the topic. However, Alfred's concern was needless; though the recruits were in a line, the Captain had yet to arrive and the men were all in loud conversations with each other.

Alfred watched quietly as Feliks and Eduard bantered with each other. Or rather, he watched as Feliks poked at Eduard and made comments about others in the line – "That guy desperately needs a decent hair cut! Just look at that shaggy, unwashed mess!" – and Eduard nodded and hummed on occasion, not really actively interested in his cousin's one-sided conversation. Alfred felt nothing but awe for the taller blonde's patience, Alfred could already feel a slight headache from the incessant chatter and was beginning to understand that Feliks was a friend best served in small doses.

Alfred was almost grateful as the line began to quiet down and straighten up, announcing the approach of their training Captain, the prince. Alfred only knew the man from the occasional picture that some of the other youth around his village sporadically brought back from trips to the capital, and it was as he watched the tall and pale figure approach that he realized he didn't even know the man's name.

The prince stood in front of the line of men, thirty or forty of them all told, and watched them silently for a moment, some of the recruits fidgeting nervously under the piercing violet gaze. Alfred studiously avoided looking at the man's face and focused on the ground by the prince's feet. He felt his eyes widen slightly as he saw the light layer of frost that shone slightly in the afternoon sun. There was no way it was there naturally, and Alfred wondered what it would feel like to be close enough to the man to feel the chill emanating from him and the tingle of ambient magic winding through the air. It was well known that the prince was a powerful mage with an affinity for the ice element, but Alfred had never been able to witness much magic in his life and never had he seen a mage powerful enough to have magic leaking off him in such a way. Alfred couldn't help but shiver as he watched the frost spread out around the man in a radius of at least four feet. He didn't know how long he had been staring, but the sound of the prince's voice – soft, but sharp with the lilt of the northern accent common to those from the capital – snapped him from his awed daze.

"Other than today, training will commence at dawn and continue until sunset," the man stated in a tone that brooked no room for complaint. "You will assemble on time each morning, or face punishment in the form of extended training hours. Extended hours mean a night doing laps and no evening meal. Today's exercises will be used to rank you all in terms of fitness level and combat skills. Tomorrow, you will be assigned to one of three groups and two Lieutenants will be arriving to work with the more experienced groups. I suggest you all work hard, for those in the bottom ranks will have to work with me."

The warning in his voice and the look of sadistic glee in the small smile that barely graced his lips was enough to cause the men in line to shift nervously and Alfred heard Feliks swallow tensely beside him. Alfred glanced over quickly at Feliks' pale face and then looked back to the Captain. He froze when his eyes met squarely with a violet gaze and the same uneasiness from earlier assaulted his body. He could see the suspicion and curiosity in that stunning gaze; Alfred was sure the prince didn't look at any of the other recruits in this way.

The prince started toward Alfred, who twitched with every step the man took. Soon the man was directly in front of him, the men on either side of him – Feliks included – edging away from the chill that engulfed them. Alfred gasped as the cool air washed over him, eyes fluttering softly as he felt currents of magic caress his skin. Something in the back of his mind, around the bonds to his Familiars tugged lightly and Alfred swore that he saw a frown flit across Ivan's face and the curiosity in his gaze grow.

"What's your name, soldier?" Ivan demanded, looking down at Alfred.

"Alfred, sir."

"Gentlemen!" Ivan called out, his voice still somehow soft, yet ten times as sharp. "Alfred will be the volunteer to start the first task."

Alfred felt numb. Vaguely, he felt a hand pat his shoulder in sympathy – Feliks. Alfred looked back at his two new friends in panic as he was lead off by the Captain, who had a firm grip on his forearm. Feliks shrugged helplessly and Eduard just looked sympathetic. Alfred turned back to look where he was being led after he stumbled slightly over his own feet. The grip on his arm tightened a fraction and Alfred glanced sideways at the prince to see barely suppressed amusement on his face.

Ahead of them was a tall wooden structure that seemed to be nothing more than a fifty foot wall. As they came to its base, Alfred saw that there were slight flaws on its surface; open knotholes in the wood and tiny gaps between planks. Alfred felt his stomach curdle as he realized what the task was going to be. He remembered watching men do something similar during a competition at the Spring Festival one year. The idea was that you had to climb the wall with nothing but your hands and feet to keep you from falling and make it down the other side without jumping at any point. Alfred had always thought it looked dangerous and difficult. He could already tell that he wouldn't be making it into either of the upper groups.

The prince let go of his arm and moved off to the side. Alfred took a deep breath and reached for the wall.

"Hold one moment," the prince called over from where he was crouched on the ground over a box. "You're missing something."

Alfred watched in trepidation as the prince stood and turned back to him. The man was holding what appeared to be two metal weights dangling from rope loops. One was in the shape of a pole and the other was nothing more than a sheet of iron. Both bore engraved runes.

"This," the prince held up the flat iron sheet. "Is spelled to test your strength and will grow heavier the farther you climb. This," he held up the iron rod. "Is spelled to test your endurance and will decrease your body's energy levels the longer you hold it. You need both to reach the top."

Alfred wanted to vomit, but accepted the weights with shaking arms. He let the prince loop the ropes over his arms so that they dangled from his elbows. Reaching up, he put two fingers through a knothole and used the finger tips of his other hand to grip along one of the tiny breaks between planks. He lifted a foot and dug the toe of his soft leather boots into another gap, then heaved himself up. He felt it immediately as he left the ground, the iron board increasing in weight and his body feeling slightly drained in an uncomfortably unnatural way. He made it barely past the first ten feet when the fingers of his left hand slipped from their spot in one of the smaller gaps, just as he was reaching with his right hand for a new handhold. Alfred grasped desperately at thin air for a few panicked moments as he tipped over backwards and fell from the wall. He barely had time for a startled yelp before he was falling, the sound of startled exclamations from the other recruits reaching him through the soft rush of air.

He winced as his legs hit the ground hard, but blinked in confusion as the rest of his body stopped short of the ground. It took him a couple moments of blinking to realize that large, cold hands were grasping him under his armpits and keeping him from falling. Suddenly, the hands lifted him to his feet, the weights were removed, and he was pushed off in the direction of the end of the line.

"Next!" the Captain snapped, waving impatiently at the man who was at the front of the line.

As the man approached, Alfred dared one more look back at the prince as he made his way back toward Feliks and Eduard. Violet eyes were again watching him, but this time they were tinged with confusion rather than curiosity. If Alfred didn't know any better, he'd say that the prince was almost wary of him.

The rest of the day's training tasks continued in much the same manner, though the Captain never again had Alfred go first. By the time the sun was setting, Alfred felt battered and bruised and more tired than any amount of work around the farm had ever made him. Not to mention he had ended up in the lowest rank and would be seeing the prince much more often than he would like. Feliks hadn't fared much better, but Eduard had made it into the middle group and would be training with one of the Lieutenants that had arrived just before the evening meal.

Alfred trudged blearily to his tent, foregoing the allotted bathing time. He wasn't going to be able to go without bathing the whole time, but he would for tonight. Feliks had promised to stay until the end of the bathing time so he could tell Alfred how long he should wait before attempting to sneak down and bathe himself tomorrow night.

As soon as he entered his tent, he flopped forward onto his bedroll, not even attempting to undress himself. He was half asleep when he felt small hands tugging on his boots. He muttered a garbled thanks with a small smile on his lips and slipped fully into slumber.

Poor Alfred. He'll get his usual cocky self back, I promise! I tried cadets for a couple weeks once and had to do endurance exercises. They were brutal...but maybe I'm just lazy.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: I kind of enjoyed writing this chapter, because Alfred finally shows his stubborn side.

Warnings: None

Pairings: some PruCan sweetness

Chapter Seven: To Be A Man

Alfred was glad that Feliks had ended up in the same group as him, otherwise instead of being lined up on time right now he would still be sleeping the morning away in his tent. The blonde beside him was whispering intently, reporting bathing times and spots of the other men in the camp.

"There's this one area, like, behind a little peninsula and some trees that you can use, no one went there last night and it's totally private," Feliks waved his hands, assumedly to outline the little spur of land at the lake. "And no one stayed, like, any longer than an hour, everyone's just _so_ tired."

Alfred nodded vacantly, his gaze fixed on the figure of the prince walking toward their group across the training field. In fact, he was staring at a prince wearing nothing but his military issue pants. Alfred had never seen skin so pale before, having never been to the northern part of the empire, and he couldn't help but be fascinated by the glimmer of morning light across the exposed chest of the Captain. He was brought out of his trance by a playful elbow to the ribs and looked over to find Feliks smirking and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively while glancing between Alfred and the Prince. Alfred flushed brightly and shook his head in a panic. The prince may have been a beautiful man, but not only was he out of Alfred's league, he would most likely execute Alfred himself if he ever found out about the charade.

Still, as the man handed out training staffs, Alfred couldn't help but remember the large hands that had caught him when he fell from the wall yesterday. The wall that none of the recruits had managed to climb, Alfred recalled with a grimace, thinking of the look of frustration on the Captain's face as he had moved them on to the next exercise.

Alfred listened vaguely to the outline Ivan gave of their schedule for the day. Weapons training, with the staff and sword, followed by an afternoon of hand-to-hand combat training. Alfred could already feel the bruises he would have by the end of it all. With a groan of dismay, he shut his eyes briefly, then moved into formation to start drilling in basic motions.

Matthew watched from between two tents as Alfred struggled through form after form, clumsily wielding the staff in his hands. His master obviously had never held a weapon before in his life and Matthew only hoped that they weren't sent home. Alfred had no life waiting for him back at the farm.

Matthew scowled at a sharp tug to one of his antennae and turned to glare at the dragon slumped lazily against the tent next to him.

"Can't you help him somehow?" Matthew demanded anxiously, slapping the clawed hand away from his sensitive antenna. "I thought you said your magic would help."

"Though I'm flattered you think I'm that powerful, sweetheart," the dragon drawled indolently, with another of the leering smirks he'd taken to giving Matthew these last couple days. "I'm only a dragon, not a god."

"Well then what _can_ you do?"

"I can heal up any bruises that are really bad, keep him somewhat shielded in battle, stuff like that," Gilbert explained with a wiggle of his fingers, red flames twirling between them. "I can't make him miraculously good at everything."

Matthew sighed and slumped down against the tent, pouting slightly as he watched Alfred fumble yet another set of movements and drop his staff. He could see the Captain watching Alfred with a narrowed and unimpressed gaze. Matthew didn't like any of the ways he had seen the man watch Alfred today. First, the man had seemed somewhat curious and suspicious (though the gods only new why), then he had caught the prince distinctly looking over Alfred's backside as his master had bent to adjust the lacings in his soft leather boots. Though, even the Captain had seemed rather upset with himself once he had realised what he had done. It was the only reason Matthew wasn't going to put weevils in his morning porridge tomorrow.

Matthew winced as Alfred took a brutal blow from his sparring partner and landed hard on his back. The cricket had a horrible feeling that the rest of the day wouldn't get any better.

Alfred sat dejectedly outside his tent, chewing on the slice of bread and hunk of cheese he taken from the mess hall. The hard wooden benches had been impossible for him to sit comfortably on due to his collection of bruises, so he had chosen instead to eat cushioned on the grass. He admitted that the solitude was also part of it. None in his group had performed as dismally as he had in training today and Alfred was ashamed to sit and listen to his peers chat about everything they had accomplished. Feliks had attempted to follow Alfred out of the mess, but when Alfred had waved him off, the short blonde had shrugged and joined his cousin instead.

Another nibble and Alfred grimaced. He was used to farm fresh foods; bread baked that morning by his mother and cheese that he had made himself from the cows he had milked. Alfred missed that life more than ever at this moment, with the cold bread and tasteless cheese he was chewing.

He sat up at the sound of quiet footsteps approaching. Already so close, and yet Alfred hadn't heard them until now. A glance behind him down the row of tents and Alfred dropped the food and shot to his feet, trying to decide whether he should bow or salute as the prince approached him. Eyes settling briefly on the uniform and sashes worn by the man, and Alfred decided a sharp salute would be better received. The man barely acknowledged the gesture, his eyes remaining cold and distant and his lips pressed in a thin line. Alfred scuffed the toe of his boot in the grass – a nervous gesture. The prince stopped in front of him and they both looked at each other for a long moment, until Alfred couldn't take it anymore and broke the gaze.

"Your performance so far has been...less than promising," the prince stated coolly. "I don't think you're cut out for the army. Your conscription has been rescinded. Pack your belongings and be gone before morning."

With that said, the prince turned sharply on his heel and walked off without a second glance, leaving Alfred gaping in his wake. A sharp burning at the corners of his eyes and Alfred angrily squeezed them shut. He slumped down dejectedly into the grass and stared at the cheese and bread he had dropped earlier. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Matthew and Gilbert emerge from between his and Feliks' tents. Both picked up the discarded food and shared it silently as they watched their master.

"So that's it?" asked Gilbert suddenly, causing both Matthew and Alfred to look at him in confusion. "I mean, are you really just going to take him dismissing you like that? You've got spark, Al, if you'd bother to show it once in a while. Prove to that cold bastard that you can do this!"

"How?" Alfred countered bleakly, picking at the grass distractedly. "He's right, I'm no good at this stuff."

Gilbert snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Quitter. No wonder you're not getting anywhere in life."

Alfred felt something snap inside him, anger and frustration welling in a surge of heat.

"What do you want me to do?" he yelled, pulling at his hair. "I've failed at everything so far and I can't change that."

"There's something that everyone has failed at so far," Gilbert pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"No one's failed at everything though!"

"I didn't mean it like that," Gilbert snapped in irritation. "I mean that _everyone_ fell off that damn wall. So if you go climb it, it'll prove that you're more capable than anyone else here."

Both Alfred and Matthew stared at him as if he had suddenly grown a new appendage. After the white dragon snapped out an irritated '_What?' _both had grinned widely.

"You're a genius," Alfred proclaimed as he watched Matthew hug the other Familiar.

Alfred scooped them both up and raced off to the lake. He would take an early bath at the spot that Feliks had mentioned and then he would wait in his tent until everyone was in bed for the night. He would have to find the rod and board somehow, but this plan was his last chance, so he would manage.

Later, while he waited in his tent for the camp to settle down for the night, Alfred couldn't help but remember the look on Gilbert's face as the little cricket had hugged him. It was the most colour he had ever seen on the dragon's pale features. With this thought for entertainment, Alfred peeked outside his tent. The camp was silent except for the sounds of snoring and sleepy mumbles and Alfred ducked out to start his search for the two items he would need.

The search for the rod and sheet had been shorter than Alfred had originally thought it would be. An hour after leaving his tent, he found himself standing at the base of the enormous wall, both items at his feet and staring up at the top. A top that seemed an impossible distance away. Alfred nudged the rod with his toe, watching it roll in the grass, runes shimmering along its surface. He was not looking forward to the weight and weariness that carrying the two items would inflict upon him, but if he wanted to complete the task properly, he had to have them.

With one last grimace, Alfred picked up the rod and looped the rope over his arm to hang from his shoulder, doing the same with the iron sheet. Both felt awkward hanging from his shoulders and he couldn't help but wish that there was an easier way to do this. With a deep breath, he reached up and grabbed a couple of knotholes for his first handholds and hauled himself off the ground. Almost immediately, he felt the magic in the items take hold; the slight increase in weight, the beginnings of weakness in his arms that grew slowly but steadily. Letting out a long breath, he ignored both as best he could and continued the climb.

Again, after barely making it over the ten-foot marker, Alfred felt his fingers slip out of place, the toes of his boots skid off the cracks into which he had jammed them. This time, as he fell, he knew no one would be at the bottom to catch him. The impact with the ground knocked the air out of his lungs and Alfred lay there for a time, gasping harshly as he tried to pull air into his lungs and ignore the ache of bruises he already had and the pain of new ones forming. Opening his eyes, he glared up at the wall that towered over him, the dark of the night making the top almost fade out of existence.

Alfred decided that he may as well map out a route of hand and foot holds as he lay there recovering. Slipping the ropes from the two pieces of iron off his shoulders, he immediately felt the relief of the spells dissipating. Alfred let his eyes wander from knothole to crack, tracing a path up from the base to just past the twenty-foot marker. He squinted in consideration as he noticed a sort of hidden regularity in the holds. Though the knotholes and cracks were scattered in a random-looking pattern, they always came one after the other, crack followed by several knotholes, then another crack or two. Alfred picked up the rod and rolled it between his hands as he considered possible reasons for this pattern. Were the cracks meant to be footholds, the knotholes for hands? But no, Alfred had tried that, twice, and twice he had fallen.

Alfred continued to roll the rod between his hands, staring at the wall, certain that the pattern was no mistake. He rolled the rod too far and it slipped from the tips of his fingers and clattered loudly down onto the iron board. Alfred shoved it onto the grass with a curse and put his hands down on the sheet to stop the sound, glancing around to make sure the noise had not roused anyone back in the tents. Luckily, it seemed that the men were all tired enough to have slept through the sound. He looked back down at the objects and sighed, going back to pondering the problem of the wall. A thought occurred to him, as he stared at the items. Cracks...iron board. Knotholes...iron rod. Alfred could have kicked himself. He had not once considered the reasons behind the shapes of the items. The runes could have been printed on any shape, and yet they were printed on two distinctly different items when they could have been made in a matching set.

Grinning as the idea took form, Alfred snatched up the rod and looped the rope lightly over his forearm before picking up the board and jamming it into the lowest crack. It was a tight fit and when Alfred climbed up onto it he could tell that it would hold his weight easily. He took the rod and glanced upward, trying to judge how far up he could put it and still be able to reach the board again while hanging from it. Deciding that four feet was a good length – his arms may have been thin, but they were long – Alfred inserted the rod into a knothole and gripped it tightly, tucking his legs up underneath him and bracing so that he could lean down and tug the board out from the crack he'd jammed it in before.

He continued in this strain, silently cheering at each marker he passed. By the time he hit the thirty-foot marker, more than halfway up the wall, he was grinning widely even as sweat poured off him. As he knew it would, the board got heavier the farther he went and the rod sapped his strength continuously. The combination, especially while having to hang from the rod and tug out the board, was almost painful, but he was close, so close. By the time he passed the forty-foot marker, the sky in the east was beginning to lighten considerably and he knew that he had only a short while to manage the last ten feet before the camp would start to wake for morning drills. Alfred wanted to be sitting at the top when that happened, rod and board resting beside him. He wanted to see the look on the prince's face; see the man's expression when he finds the recruit he dismissed at the top, having completed a task that none of the others could.

It was with this newfound determination that Alfred gripped the rod above him and tugged the board out, struggling against its weight and his exhaustion to raise it over his head and insert it into the next crack. This accomplished, he pulled himself up and leaned down to grab the rod. If he stood now, he could almost wrap his hands over the top of the wall. However, he needed the rod and board up there with him, so instead of jumping to grab the edge, he pulled the board out again, repeating the pattern another two times.

When he could sit atop the wall and reach down to haul the items up beside him, Alfred looked out over the camp. The sun was rising over the treetops, shining above distant mountain peaks. And there were several early risers watching him, shocked expressions on their faces. Amongst them were the two Lieutenants that had arrived the first night, but Alfred paid them no mind. The prince was standing outside his tent, staring up at Alfred as if he had never really seen the man before. Though his pale face remained unmoved, Alfred could still see the surprise in his violet eyes, even with the distance between them. Alfred smirked at the man, smug and challenging, a new kind of determination burning in his chest. He was going to be the best damn soldier the army had ever seen.

The prince stared at him for another few seconds as more people emerged from their tents. It was only as Feliks emerged and started cheering when he saw Alfred, other soldiers joining in, that the prince smiled and nodded in Alfred's direction. Alfred felt the burning determination in him glow brighter. Though he was bruised and exhausted and still had an entire day's training ahead of him, he could already feel that today was going to be a good day.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: this might be the only chapter I'll be able to post for the next couple weeks, since I'll be busy starting a job and getting settled in a new place for the summer. I'll try to find time to at least post a small interlude or something for this story . sorry guys.

Warnings: hermaphrodite!Alfred, nudity (not that kind! :P perverts)

Pairings: RusAme

Chapter 8: Bathing Issues

Alfred grumbled angrily under his breath as he stood in the kitchen area of the mess tent chopping carrots up for the stew that was going to be served for lunch. Today was not going to be a good day. All the trouble he went through to get to the top of that wall, stay enlisted in the army, and he was put on kitchen duty for the day because he had 'stolen army property.' It wasn't as if he had removed the stupid rod and sheet from the camp. He had simply put them to the use they were meant for... he had even put them back once he'd made it down off the wall!

A piece of carrot went flying and ricocheted off one of the tent poles as Alfred chopped through it viciously, snarling as he did so. Better to take his anger out on the carrot than the prince who had relegated him to kitchen duty. Because, though the kitchen duty was meant as a punishment, Alfred was still in the army. And he could have sworn that there had been respect in the prince's eyes, after the shock of seeing the worst recruit at the top of that wall had worn off.

Dropping the knife, Alfred used his sleeve to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. The day was a hot one, and the air inside the tent was doubly so from the fires under the stew pots. Alfred grabbed his board of chopped carrots and moved over to the pot he was in charge of, dumping them in and watching for a moment as the orange chunks bobbed lightly along the surface. He could hear one of the Lieutenants hollering orders at his troops through the open flaps and he hurried to grab some stalks of celery. The morning drills would soon be winding down and if he didn't have the stew ready to be served on time, he would most likely be stuck on dinner duty too.

Once the celery was added and the stew just had to be left to simmer until lunchtime, Alfred wandered over to the back entrance and watched his group train off in one of the fields, wooden staffs twirling in the morning sun as they worked through the forms. He could see Feliks' blonde head bobbing around toward the centre. Without permission, his eyes began to seek out an even paler head of hair, one that should be standing out above all the others, but the tall prince was absent from the group. A man Alfred didn't recognize stood in front of the group, calling out the forms to the trainees. Alfred frowned in confusion, eyes wandering around the fields to see if the Captain was checking in on the other groups. Still no sign of hat shockingly pale silver-blonde hair. Shrugging off the oddity, Alfred turned back into the kitchen, intending to find something to occupy his time until the lunch bell rang.

It was only as he turned his attention back to the kitchen area that he noticed the odd silence coming from within. The two other recruits that had been relegated to kitchen aids and the three cooks were silent at their stations, none of the quiet chatter filling the hot area. The reason for this was immediately clear, the prince standing quietly off to Alfred's side with two bowls of stew.

"Early lunch for you, soldier," the prince announced, pushing a bowl into Alfred's hands and beginning to eat from the second. "You'll be making up for missing morning drills during the regular lunch period."

Alfred scowled and started in on the bowl in his hands, swallowing the urge to point out that the prince was the one to put him on kitchen duty. He refused to meet the Captain's eyes either; he could feel them boring into his skull with amusement that bordered on being cruel. In that moment, Alfred wished he could switch places with his Familiars. In the corner of his mind, he could feel the two of them, their emotions soft and lazy as they basked in the sun on a rock along the lake.

His thoughts were jerked back to his immediate surroundings as his bowl of stew – still half full – was removed from his hands and transferred into those of a passing chef. The prince walked out of the tent and Alfred had no choice but to trot obediently after the man. The other groups were just coming toward the mess from their respective training grounds and both Eduard and Feliks gave him consolatory pats on the shoulders as they walked into the mess tent.

The prince didn't stop until they were at the far end of one of the training fields, and for this Alfred was thankful, since it put them in the shade of the forest and out of the glaringly hot sun. He could feel his Familiars just on the other side of the patch of trees and realized that the lake must stretch around the camp in a long arc.

"We will start with hand-to-hand combat," the Captain stated, settling easily into a fighting stance. Alfred attempted to mimic the posture as best he could, turning his body to the side, moving his feet apart, and raising one hand to protect his face, the other levelled to cover his side. The prince looked at his form critically, then walked over and rearranged Alfred's limbs, moving his feet further apart and pushing his elbows in closer to his body. Alfred bit his lip to suppress a gasp, but couldn't stop the shudder as cold seeped through his clothing at each point the prince touched. A glance down confirmed that a light dusting of ice had accumulated at each point and Alfred leaned after the prince as he retreated back to stand across from him, breathing in the soft, invisible swirls of magic the man left in his wake.

When purple eyes were once more trained on him, Alfred leaned back into position and settled in for the fight, wondering idly how many new bruises he'd be nursing later.

Instead of only training for the regular lunch hour, the prince had kept Alfred halfway through the afternoon session to work through the staff training Alfred had missed while on kitchen duty. As the blonde filed in next to Feliks for the rest of the afternoon's training, he hoped whole-heartedly to never again spend time training one on one with the Captain. He rubbed a particularly tender spot below his ribs where the prince had landed a solid blow with his staff. Feliks grinned as he caught sight of Alfred's condition, poking at a dark bruise forming on the taller blonde's cheek.

"Looks like the Captain put you through your paces," Feliks chirped cheekily, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Bet this is only, like, the beginning. You know, what with you being the only one to, like, make it up the wall. Totally set the bar for yourself."

Alfred groaned and rubbed at his face, turning away from Feliks and watching the prince take his usual place in front of the group of recruits. The prince, who happened to also be watching him and taking stock of Alfred's injuries with growing amusement. Alfred glared back, dropping his hand from his side and standing a little straighter. He'd show that smug, infuriating royal.

The prince gave the command and the group started into their evening run; ten miles before they could break for dinner and baths. Alfred jogged through the crowd, pushing his pace in order to catch up with the prince, ignoring Feliks' confused inquiries. The Captain looked mildly surprised when Alfred came up beside him. His surprise turned into a pleased smirk as Alfred passed him, bordering between a jog and an all out run.

Every time the Captain picked up his pace to pass the shorter blonde, Alfred would pick his own speed up, slowly pushing each other into a run. By the seventh mile, both were tearing down the dirt path and the rest of the group had disappeared behind them. Alfred was panting, sweaty and red in the face, the prince panting, but cheeks merely tinted pink. Alfred scowled, silently cursing the man's ice magic as air burned in his lungs and his legs protested every motion. He forced himself to keep pace, though, gritting his teeth and pushing a bit more, wondering each time if it would be this little bit that took him past his limit.

The appearance of the field at the end of the track, marking the end of the ten miles, sent a new wave of elated adrenaline through Alfred and he put on a last burst of speed. He entered the clearing barely a pace ahead of the prince and flopped to the ground in a panting heap, but with a bright smile plastered goofily across his face. He heard soft laughter from his left, but when he turned to look the prince was standing calmly next to him, regaining his breath as the rest of the troop came into view. When the rest of the men were clustered in an exhausted group in the field, the prince dismissed them for the evening. A cheer went through the group and the men wandered toward the mess tent, Feliks stooping to haul Alfred up and off with the rest of them.

Alfred snuck through the bushes along the side of the lake toward the secluded lagoon that Feliks had found for him the first night. It had been a long first week of training, especially since he had climbed the wall on the second day of training. It seemed the prince had taken a personal interest in Alfred's progress as a soldier, singling him out in sword training, pairing him with men twice his size in hand-to-hand, using him in almost all his demonstrations when they moved on to a new move or form. And there was the continued competition with the evening runs, which Alfred suspected the prince was letting him win, even if only by a pace or so.

It was a relief when he finally made it to his bathing area and began stripping off his training gear. He loosened his chest band, feeling the spell release and the pressure ease off his breasts. He folded all his clothing and slipped into the cool waters, humming in pleasure as the sweat and grim of the day sluiced off and the aches were soothed. Seven days in and Alfred was toughening up slightly. The bruises were easier to ignore and he was getting fewer of them. The ones he did get were no longer in sensitive areas, mostly on his arms and legs as he blocked kicks and punches or tried to minimize damage from a missed block in staff training – which he was still slightly struggling with, if he had to admit it.

Alfred floated slowly around the lagoon, taking stock of the day's injuries and noting old ones that were almost healed. He let his thoughts idle, turning on his back and watching the sky darken and stars start to appear. He'd have to head back soon, if he wanted a good night's sleep, but the cool waters felt so nice after such a long day.

He was so lost in his wandering thoughts, that Alfred didn't realize he wasn't alone in the lagoon until he paddled slowly around a patch of reeds. A soft cough alerted him to the other's presence and Alfred thrashed slightly in surprise and alarm, splashing loudly in his hurry to right himself in the water and make sure his breasts were fully submerged. He crossed his arms over his chest for good measure as he caught sight of the prince relaxed in the shallows against some rocks.

"S-sorry, sir," Alfred stuttered in his panic, struggling to keep a straight face and not show his fear. Luckily, the prince seemed to take his unease as a reaction to bathing with his superior.

"At ease," the Captain said, smirking slightly. "Neither of us is in uniform at the moment, Alfred, we can drop formalities."

"Yes...sir," Alfred winced as he continued using a polite form of address, hoping the prince would drop it and let Alfred leave. How embarrassing would it be for the Captain to discover that Alfred didn't know his name.

The prince lifted his brows in reproof of Alfred's use of the term, the look on his face expectant. Alfred felt his hope flicker and die and bit his lip, offering the prince an apologetic shrug. He could see a look of incredulity spreading across the other's face and felt an ashamed flush cross his own. He averted his eyes, staring determinedly at the water rippling around him instead of the prince; his first mistake of the night.

"You don't know my name?" The prince asked. His voice was much to close and Alfred jumped, head whipping up to see that the prince had managed to cross the distance between them without so much as disturbing the water.

Alfred shook his head and tried to move back. Any closer and the water wouldn't be able to hide his less-than-male chest.

"Ivan."

The prince gripped Alfred by the arm as he tried to move away and suddenly Alfred couldn't breathe. He could feel cold seeping into his skin again, magic dancing around them and the water dropping a few degrees.

"My name is Ivan," the prince repeated, curling his fingers further around Alfred's arm.

As Alfred nodded and repeated the name, he quickly realised two things that turned his face an even deeper shade of red. The first was that Ivan was just as naked as he was and that he had never, ever been near a naked man before. He second was that his arms were still firmly crossed over his breasts and Ivan's grip on his arm was dangerously close to bringing the prince's fingers in contact with one of said female appendages. However, Alfred found himself frozen in the grips of Ivan's magic, twitching slightly as each bob of their bodies in the water threatened to press his breast against Ivan's hand.

As seconds ticked by and Alfred said nothing beyond his first repetition of Ivan's name, the prince's face frowned in worry. Just as he moved to shake Alfred out of his seeming stupor, a flash of heat filled Alfred's system. Suddenly, the presence of his Familiars moved up to the front of his mind, their alarm blaring in his consciousness as Gilbert's magic heated him.

"Well!" Alfred exclaimed nervously, pushing back suddenly out of the prince's grip and swiftly backing off toward where he'd left his clothes. "Better get to bed. Get some sleep. Training in the morning. Yeah..."

Alfred trailed off, aware that he was babbling. He took one look at the prince's confused face, the way the way was alternating his gaze between Alfred and his hand – which, now that Alfred noticed, looked slightly reddened, as if burnt – and the growing suspicion, and fled back around the reeds, grabbing his clothes and racing into the forest. He dressed swiftly on his way back to the camp, all but diving into his tent and curling up protectively in his sheets. He squeezed his eyes closed and feigned sleep even as he heard Feliks question him softly from the entrance. The blonde gave up quickly and when no further disturbances came, Alfred relaxed and tried to sleep. The look on the prince's face as he left, confusion warring with suspicion and shock, haunted Alfred's mind. Even when he felt his Familiars crawl into the sheets, sleep evaded him.

Alfred had a feeling it was going to be a long night...and an even longer day once tomorrow came.


	10. Interlude 1

A/N: I know you guys have been waiting, but with moving and working and everything I haven't finished a full chapter yet. So here's a little (very short) plot advancing interlude featuring the bad guys and our little Familiars.

Warnings: scenes of violence, mentions of death

Pairings: some fluffy PruCan, maybe a little China/Japan (if you choose to interpret it that way)

Interlude: The Tiger and the Lamb

The spattered wet reds and dry browns on his boots were oddly satisfying, considering they were from dirty Westerners. Yao smiled softly as the heel of his boot came down on the man at his feet and he ground it harshly against a deep stomach wound. A scream – strangled and quickly muffled – left the man's mouth along with globs of dark blood and bile.

_So satisfying._

"Dear general," Yao laughed lightly, his expression serene and friendly. "It is almost unfortunate that you will die here, in the snow and mountains. I would much have preferred that you lived to carry notice of your failure to the emperor." Yao paused to put in a mocking sigh of regret. "No matter. It will be almost as enjoyable to show up on his doorstep when he has nothing but palace guards and some half-trained troops to defend him."

Yao let the words sink in, the expressions of horror and sorrow in the general's eyes more warming than the first breath of southerly winds after a long, dark winter. Wishing to see the light of life fade from the eyes of his defeated enemy, Yao drove his blade harshly through the man's throat, more blood trickling down to cover the snow and the toes of his boots. He doubted he would ever wash them; not if he could keep the blood of his greatest challenge, his most glorious victory on them and look at it whenever he pleased.

The thought was tantalizing, sending new bursts of adrenaline through his system. He glanced around at his men, watching them finish off the last few surviving soldiers with the same proud expression a parent would give their children. Yao raised a hand to beckon his second and Kiku appeared almost instantly at his side.

"When everything here has been taken care of, move the men up onto the mountain ridges. We will make camp for the night and carry on toward the Imperial City at dawn."

"Sir," Kiku acknowledged quietly, bowing slightly and moving to go spread the order.

"And Kiku," Yao murmured before the other could fully leave. He watched with pleasure as the other tensed, back to Yao. "I wish to...speak with you later. Come to my tent after the men have eaten."

A quiet 'Yes, sir' was his only response as the man moved off. Yao continued to watch his surroundings with a pleasant smile, stroking the soft feathers of his falcon as she shifted restlessly on his arm.

"Soon, dear one," he hummed to her. "Soon we will have this empire at our feet. Have Roderick at our feet."

* * *

><p>Matthew woke in a cold sweat, his nerves buzzing and a horrible lurching in his stomach. He could practically <em>feel<em> the strings of Fate pulling at him, only to moments later snap and fade. Something big was happening; something that would change this world. Matthew tried desperately to latch on to one of the passing feelings, but each was wrenched from him just as quickly as it latched on.

He hadn't realized he was crying and shaking until warm hands gripped his shoulders and shook him gently, a concerned voice filtering over his ears.

"Gilbert," he breathed into the darkness surrounding them, eyes latching onto the pale figure before him. In the background, Alfred was still snuffling softly in his sleep, exhausted from a hard day of training and the near-disastrous bathing encounter.

"Matt, what's wrong?" Gilbert demanded, keeping his voice low.

"I-I don't...I don't know," Matthew admitted, flinching every time a particularly strong pull was ripped away from him. "Something is changing in the world, I think. Something big...and I think Alfred is going to be part of it, whatever it is." He paused as images of the dream that had woken him came back. "I was dreaming of the Imperial City and the palace. There was blood, people dead in the streets or tied up."

Matthew's voice broke and he hugged himself, tears beginning to fall again. He let the dragon pull him into his lap; let him pet his hair and sooth him. He knew he wouldn't sleep again tonight, but the warmth offered by his companion was a nice distraction from the feelings still assaulting his mind. He wrapped his arms around the other Familiar and buried his face in a scaly neck and just breathed in the scent of fire and magic.

They stayed that way until the grey light of pre-dawn lit the canvas of the tent.

* * *

><p>Hopefully this little bit will get me rolling again with this story. Too much time away from it has sorta killed some of my muse's brain. I have started on the next chapter, so it shouldn't be too long a wait<p> 


	11. Chapter 9

A/N: Phew! Finally got this chapter finished. It's not as long as some of the other chapters, but I chose to stop where I did because it was a good break in the story.

Warnings: None, really for this one.

Pairings:growing hints of RusAme, a little bit of implied PruCan and LietPol

Chapter 9: Moving Out

Ivan stared for a moment at the letter that had been delivered by an imperial messenger. He wondered for a moment if it was a joke. The letter was from Vash and detailed a strong attack on the Imperial City's eastern gates. The invaders had already reached the city and there was no sign of the main forces of the imperial army. There had been vague reports from some of the more remote mountain villages out toward the eastern borders that the army had already fallen to the Easterners.

Ivan clenched his hands in worry. The letter crumpled slightly, but he paid it no mind. He may not get along with his father, but he didn't want the man dead...and not just because he would have to assume the throne if such a thing occurred. The orders on the letter were to move the troops in the training camps to the city and join the palace guards and remaining army regiments on the front lines.

The trainees had received barely three weeks of training at this point. Perhaps the two more advanced groups could handle full on battle, but Ivan's group was nowhere near being ready. But, orders were orders.

Ivan summoned the two Lieutenants in charge of the other groups and relayed the information, sending them out to wake the camp and start packing. They were to move out before dawn. The road to the city would take them three days to travel with over half the camp on foot.

Once the Lieutenants had run off to rouse the trainees and spread the word, Ivan moved off into the camp to do the same. The first few trainees he kicked out of their beds complained loudly, until they realized just who had woken them. Once they were awake and aware of the situation, they woke their neighbours. Soon the camp was filled with a nervous energy, more and more people aware that battle was only a couple days' march away.

Ivan turned the corner down another row of tents, pleased to note that over half the row had already been roused by their friends or neighbours. He spotted Alfred's loud blonde friend pulling the other out of his tent. Alfred looked a tired mess, but that was to be expected, what with the amount of effort the boy had been putting into his training ever since nearly being sent home. His hair was mussed and still damp from bathing. Ivan frowned thoughtfully. How late had the boy waited before going for his bath and why wasn't he bathing with the rest of the troops? From what Ivan had seen of the boy's personality, he wasn't the shy type.

Curiosity peaked, Ivan wandered down through the tents toward where Alfred was now saddling his horse, readying the animal's saddle for his bags. The first bag he slung over the saddle was his own personal sack. It was almost completely empty compared to the military issued sack from the camp, which was practically bursting its seams. Ivan wondered why he didn't put more into the other bag so the saddle would be more balanced.

Just as he was moving forward to make the suggestion, a small head popped out of Alfred's sack. It was only for a moment, before Alfred quickly stuffed the head back down. It all happened so quickly that Ivan was half-convinced he had imagined the whole episode. Until Alfred started whispering hurriedly down into the sack. Ivan's eyes narrowed as he processed the situation. The boy had a Familiar and was obviously hiding the fact. What was someone on the Consort registry doing enlisted in the army? Ivan wasn't even sure if you could enlist if you were a Consort and Alfred was also obviously unbounded.

More curious than ever, Ivan decided not to approach the boy about his situation just yet. He would watch and see what other secrets he could uncover. Plus, the boy was shaping up to be a skilled soldier. Rules or no, it would be a shame to lose such a promising candidate.

* * *

><p>When Feliks had roughly pulled him out of bed, Alfred was half convinced that it was all some sort of messed up dream. Now, as he saddled Kahn and made sure that his bags were properly strapped down, he was feeling rather numb. It hadn't fully occurred to him, when he had first run off to join the army, that there was actually a war being fought. It still didn't seem truly real, even as the camp packed up to march off to battle.<p>

He had panicked briefly when Matthew had woken up and stuck his head out of the bag, but as there were no loud cries of shock and no one had approached him over it, it must have gone unnoticed. There was enough flustered scurrying and nervous energy in the camp that it wasn't likely anyone had time to focus on what was happening to anyone else.

Alfred could feel that both his Familiars were awake and curled together at the bottom of the sack. He had explained hurriedly to Matthew what was going on and now the tension and anxiety coming from both of them was particularly distracting. He was almost grateful for the diversion though, it stopped him from really contemplating the fact that he was going to be fighting; going where it would be kill or be killed.

Soon, the entire camp was packed and lined up on the road outside the gates. Alfred felt somewhat on display, seated upon a horse. There were only a handful of recruits who had their own horses, as well as the Lieutenants and Captain. It didn't help that Feliks kept hyperventilating and Eduard had to keep calming him down. The whole situation was starting to blur into some sort of nightmarish dream sequence and Alfred was once more wondering if he wasn't still asleep in his tent.

Ivan barked out an order from the front of the lines and wheeled his horse about. The call was repeated by the Lieutenants, each taking one side about halfway down the lines of men. Soon, the march to the Imperial City had started. Feliks was close to crying again and Alfred thought he was going to throw up.

* * *

><p>It was late by the time they stopped for the day. The sun had already passed below the horizon and tents were put up in a hurry during the last fading greys of daylight. It was quiet around the fires that night, everyone too exhausted to do more than murmur vaguely at the person next to them. Even Alfred was sore. He had switched off riding Kahn with both Feliks and Eduard. It had seemed a good idea to share the luxury of riding a horse, but had only resulted in the three of them having both aching feet and aching bottoms.<p>

As he spooned warm stew into his mouth, Alfred watched in amusement as Feliks once more almost fell asleep in his food, Eduard catching him by his collar and nudging him awake again. As he ate, Alfred could feel the empty stomachs of his Familiars. He could easily save his slice of bread for them, but that was hardly a meal. However, it was the best Alfred could do when the only other thing on the menu was stew, something he couldn't exactly stuff into his clothing to smuggle back to his tent.

Just as he finished up his bowl of stew, the sound of many approaching feet and the clip of horses reached the camp. Men shifted nervously, glancing at each other or at tents where their weapons lay.

"At ease," Ivan called, standing up. "It's just trainees from the southern and northern camps."

Everyone relaxed, but there was still a tension in the air. Feliks was looking much more awake now, head craned so he could see down the road and watch the approaching silhouettes. As the first rows came into the light of the fires, Feliks began squealing and bouncing in his seat.

"Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh!" Feliks whispered excitedly, eyes glued to the man on horseback at the front of the group.

Alfred raised a questioning brow at Eduard, who rolled his eyes and mouthed the words 'boyhood crush.' Alfred chuckled lightly and turned back to observe the man that Feliks was fawning over. He was tall and slender, with shoulder-length brown hair. From this distance, Alfred couldn't make out his eye colour, but his face was open and kind, an unusual look on a seasoned soldier. Alfred watched as the man dismounted and moved to greet Ivan. The two men embraced and Alfred felt an involuntary surge of jealousy. Cursing himself and his overactive imagination and ridiculous dreams, Alfred turned back to his friends.

"Who is he?" Alfred asked. Feliks looked at him incredulously.

"Only Captain Toris Laurinaitis," Feliks declared in a heated murmur. "He's been the best friend and right-hand of the prince since forever! He's gorgeous..."

The last part was said with a sigh and Feliks went back to staring with starry eyes at the prince's friend. Alfred also turned to look back at the two Captains. Ivan and Toris were already deep in discussion, moving off into the rows of tents. Alfred was distracted from their departure by one of the Lieutenants standing up.

"To keep campsite size small, all recruits and soldiers will be sharing, three people per tent," the man announced. If Alfred had thought he was going to throw up earlier, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. A soft nudge at his shoulder brought him out of contemplating his fate. He turned to Feliks and Eduard.

"What am I going to do?" he hissed. "I can't exactly refuse to share my tent!"

"Relax," Feliks muttered, moving to stand, Eduard following suit. "Eduard and I will give our tents to some of the new guys and bunk with you."

Alfred let out a sigh of relief, wondering why he hadn't considered that option. It wasn't as if they had been told specifically that they had to stay in their own tents and take recruits in from the other camps. Making sure he had his piece of bread tucked safely into his uniform, Alfred stood and followed the cousins into the tents.

While Feliks and Eduard grabbed their belongings, Alfred went to give his Familiars their meagre dinner. He paused, however, when he saw an unfamiliar sack lying innocently in front of the entrance to his tent. Upon opening it, he found a couple hunks of cheese and some slices of celery and carrot, along with a note.

'_For your little friends who can't dine with us.'_

There was no signature. Suddenly the impending war and new sleeping arrangements seemed of little consequence. One of Alfred's secrets was out and he had no idea who knew.

* * *

><p>That's it for this time. Poor Alfred, so much stress in one day.<p> 


	12. Chapter 10

A/N: so here we get into the juicy bits. Next time should be more action packed, as we'll be getting into the actual war and battles.

Warnings: Hermaphrodite!Alfred

Pairings: RusAme

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 10: Into the City<span>

The last couple days had been some of the most stressful Alfred had ever lived through. To add to the fear of marching to his own possible death, he still had no hint as to who had discovered his Familiars. And if someone knew that much, what else might they know?

Feliks and Eduard weren't faring much better. Both of them had helped Alfred by keeping his secret. If Alfred was charged with treason, they would be implicated with him. Eduard hadn't spoken to him at all in the last two days of marching. Alfred still switched riding Kahn with both men, though, so he was sure that it was just Eduard's own way of showing his nerves.

If one good thing had come from the last two days, it would be that the long trek to the capital had hardened everyone a little more. Blisters had turned to calluses and sore muscles had developed into strong strides. If this was the last bit of training they would receive before risking their lives for their Empire, then it was doing some good.

Alfred watched in trepidation as the western gates of the city came into view, along with the end of their long road from the camp. Their numbers had more than tripled in size, the recruits from the northern and southern training camps outnumbering them almost two to one. He wondered how many of them felt the chains of conscription and how many had chosen to come, like Alfred. The only bright point about reaching the city would be that they would be sleeping in the barracks and not in tents anymore.

The sight of the gates drawing ever nearer was enough to distract Alfred from the guilt and sadness emanating from Matthew. The poor guy had been a lump of emotions ever since he had found out that his slip up might have cost Alfred everything. Whoever knew had the power to end Alfred's life. It resulted in a constant tension between all three of them, though Gilbert did his best to keep things as light as possible, cracking his usual jokes and acting like nothing had changed as much as possible.

By the time the gates had opened to let them pass into city, Alfred had considered his options and chased his thoughts in circles. He had come to a decision, though it might turn out to be the stupidest thing he'd ever decided to do, including running off to join the army. But after two days of unending fear and anxiety and a looming sense of lacking control over his own life, Alfred had decided to take things into his own hands. He hoped Matthew and Gilbert would forgive him. He also planned to keep Feliks and Eduard out of this completely...though Feliks might not cooperate with his idea.

As soon as everyone was getting settled into their barracks, Alfred dropped his sack containing clothing and bedding down on a bunk, but kept the one holding his Familiars firmly slung over his shoulder. He turned and left the building, resolutely ignoring the confused questions from Feliks and making his way toward the buildings that housed upper-level members of the army. It was time to face the music.

* * *

><p>Ivan watched from his position down the road from Alfred's barracks as the blonde exited the building sans one bag, a determined if nervous and resigned look on his face. What was the boy up to now? Alfred started to wander off down the road out of the normal soldier's district and into the barracks reserved for higher ups and government officials. He still had the bag that housed his Familiars over one shoulder.<p>

Ivan followed him at a reasonable distance, taking his time to look in on each of the buildings he passed to make sure the recruits were settling in well enough. There were some minor squabbles over who got which bunk, but nothing worth intervention. The men could handle it between themselves easily.

As they entered the district where Ivan himself would be staying, along with other Captains and war mages, he no longer had the excuse of monitoring others and so made his way toward his own building. It seemed that Alfred was heading in that direction anyway. When Alfred stopped in front of Ivan's own quarters and knocked swiftly on the door, as if getting it over with before he could back out, Ivan finally approached the blonde.

"Can I help you, Alfred?" Ivan asked, purposefully using the other's first name to make the situation less formal. Ever since the encounter in the pond, Ivan had wanted another excuse to be around the shorter man in another informal situation. However, they would have to go inside before all formality could be dropped.

Alfred jumped and twisted around to face Ivan, fingers twisting with each other nervously before he remembered to snap a salute.

"Iv – sir. I need to speak with you about...something important," Alfred mumbled the last bit, breaking eye contact to stare off to the side. Ivan nodded and motioned to the door, following Alfred into the front office of his lodgings.

When he was settled on the edge of his desk and Alfred was shifting his weight nervously in front of him, he motioned for Alfred to start talking.

"I...uh, have something to say. About myself," Alfred began haltingly. "I wanted to tell you myself, before someone else could."

Ivan had a sinking feeling that he knew where this conversation was heading. Alfred must be scared that someone had found out about his Consort status and had taken it upon himself to own up to the deceit. Commendable, if stupid. He was lucky that Ivan had been the one to discover his secret.

"I'm a Consort. Not bonded," Alfred added swiftly, as if that somehow made the situation better, which Ivan supposed it did, in a way. It at least offered a way to keep Alfred alive. "And I have – "

"Two Familiars," Ivan cut in, watching with some amusement as Alfred's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "One a dragon, the other a cricket. A curious combination. Even more curious that you have two of them in the first place."

"You...but – how?"

"I'm the one who left the food and note," Ivan responded, smirk firmly in place, his inner glee over Alfred's reaction echoed in the increased swirling and pulsing of his magic in the air around them. Alfred seemed to feel little discomfort from the random brushes of icy air, though that was probably due to the fire magic of his dragon. "However, now that you have admitted it to me directly, I'm afraid silence is no longer an option. My father is already less than pleased by my military career and this could ruin it completely if I continue to keep my silence."

Alfred was pale, but he nodded in acceptance. From the look on his face, there was more to this situation than Ivan had managed to find out on his own. He waited for the blonde to gather his thoughts.

"There's more," Alfred finally whispered, removing his bag from his shoulder and placing it on the ground so his Familiars could climb out. The cricket was white as a sheet and the dragon seemed more than a little angry. "I'm not...not really male. Not completely."

Ivan hadn't been expecting that, but now that he thought about it, it did explain why Alfred had clamped his arms over his chest when they met while bathing. And it shouldn't make his body this warm, thinking of Alfred with breasts and naked and wet. And Ivan needed a new train of thought **now**_**.**_ This revelation just made the situation easier though. Alfred was a Consort, unbounded. And Ivan needed a Consort, one who could bear children for the throne. It helped that Alfred wasn't hard to look at, and that he wasn't one to be stepped on. Ivan had enjoyed how Alfred had purposefully set out to compete with him, regardless of royal or military status. Now all he had to do was propose his idea in such a way that Alfred would accept. It shouldn't be difficult, since the only other option was execution. Most likely for his friends as well, there was no way they hadn't known, since they had opted to share Alfred's tent these last couple nights.

"Unfortunately, in these situations, the charge is high treason and the penalty is death, for you and those who have helped you," Ivan began, tone bland and formal, Alfred's face too pale to be healthy. "There may be another option though, considering what we have to work with."

Alfred looked unsure if he should be hopeful or not, but Ivan could tell that the boy didn't want to die, especially if his Familiars and two friends would share his fate. Ivan took a moment to choose his words carefully.

"You're a good soldier; talented, determined, and a hard worker. It would be a shame to have to turn you in," Ivan began. "As a war mage, I'm at a severe disadvantage, not having a Consort to have as an aid in storing and channelling my magic. As the crown prince, I'm required to take a spouse in order to continue the royal lineage, a duty I have put off long enough to make my father nervous."

The look of incredulity on Alfred's face told Ivan that he had figured out what was being suggested.

"If I were to take you as my Consort, being in the army with me would be expected of you, along with having all the proper training. It would also keep your companions and Familiars safe."

"You don't need to decide yet," Ivan said, before Alfred could open his mouth to answer. "But you will have to soon. Take the night to think about it, talk to your friends. I'll expect you back here tomorrow morning, before breakfast."

Alfred nodded and took the dismissal he had been offered, scooping his Familiars back into their bag and dashing off back to his barracks. Ivan had made his bid in the situation. It was up to Alfred to decide not only his future, but those of four others.

* * *

><p>Alfred ran all the way back to the room he shared with Feliks, Eduard and four other men. He was flushed and out of breath when he arrived, glad to see that both his companions were still there. They waited patiently for Alfred to regain his composure. Or rather, Eduard waited calmly. Feliks twitched and bounced in place, obviously eager to find out why Alfred had left so abruptly earlier, without even taking the time to set up his bunk.<p>

Finally, Alfred opened his mouth.

"I told Ivan, the Captain, about me," Alfred blurted, waiting to see how the other two reacted. Feliks fell off his bed and Eduard's face paled.

"You what!" Feliks squeaked, hands going to his neck as if he could already feel the executioner's axe coming down on it. "Why?"

"Someone had found out about my Familiars," Alfred admitted softly. "I wanted to say something, before they could tell or use it as blackmail. Turns out it was Ivan that found out anyway."

"Ivan?" Eduard questioned. Alfred knew he was asking about the casual use of the prince's name without any titles.

"He told me I could call him that the night I ran into him while bathing," Alfred answered. "And considering his proposition over this situation, I might as well get used to it."

"Why? What did he suggest?" asked Feliks rapidly, latching onto the idea that this may not end in death.

"He asked me to...umm, become his Consort," Alfred explained with a shrug as Feliks gaped at him widely. "Because he's in the army, then training me would be reasonable. And I can provide heirs, so it all works out."

"Well, did you accept?" Feliks demanded, looking more excited than Alfred thought he should, everything considered.

"Not yet. He told me to sleep on it, talk things over with you guys, and return with an answer in the morning."

"You should take what he offers," Eduard gave his opinion, expression thoughtful. "It is hard to marry better than a prince. No one would have to die."

Alfred nodded. He had never been expecting to have much choice in his spouse anyway, since he had tried to register as a Consort. He didn't see another option in any case. They couldn't run, because his family would still be in danger. And even if they stayed, his death and charge of high treason would forever mar the family name...not that there was anyone to carry it on other than Alfred.

"Yeah," Alfred replied after a long silence. "I think I will."

* * *

><p>That's all for this time. This story is finally working its way towards the end.<p> 


	13. Chapter 11

A/N: Just some notes for those of you who have asked some questions about the story. It isn't actually fem!Alfred, it's intersex!Alfred. So he has both male and female parts and can possibly bear children. Also, the ceremony for joining as Consort and mage is much the same as the one with Familiars. All you really need is some ribbon, but formalities and stuff will have to be observed since it's the prince. You'll have to wait and see how it turns out. For those of you who got upset about this being 'almost over,' there will be a battle and everything; it's just that we've passed the ¾ done mark. Now on with the chapter!

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 11: The Bonding Before the Nightmare<span>

Alfred stood outside the entrance to Ivan's office and living quarters chewing his lips nervously. He had his military sack at his feet, his personal one over his shoulder – Matthew and Gilbert still dozing inside – and both Feliks and Eduard flanking him. It was early morning, the light of dawn just beginning to brighten the sky and very few others were about. Those that were gave the three some odd looks, ever some pitying ones; they were mostly directed at Alfred, probably thinking that he was getting sent home for one reason or another.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred raised his hand and knocked lightly, half hoping Ivan was still asleep and wouldn't hear. Alfred had been awake all night fretting over his decision. Hours of agonizing over bonding with a prince; he didn't know the first thing about being around royalty, let alone how to act as if he were almost royalty. He was really just a farmer's kid, stuck in a do or die situation. And that didn't even start to address the issues of being bonded to a war mage, during an actual war. Alfred choked back a hysterical laugh; he was going to be like his mother, a wartime bride.

Just as Alfred was beginning to actually hope that Ivan was still asleep, the door opened to reveal an awake but sombre prince. He eyed Alfred's companions briefly, then bent down to grab Alfred's bag and motioned them into the office. There was a long length of ivory white ribbon coiled neatly on the desk and a nervous Toris standing off to one side. The barely muffled squeak from Feliks helped ease some of Alfred's nerves and he flashed a smile at his friend. There was a long and official looking document on the desk as well and a pair of quills and thin, ornate knives on top of it. Alfred swallowed around the lump of anxiety in his throat; this was really happening.

The door closed behind them and Alfred dropped his sack so that Matthew and Gilbert could climb out. He caught Toris eyeing the two Familiar's with curiosity from the corner of his eye, but his main focus remained on the prince who had moved to stand behind the desk.

"You have made your decision?" Ivan asked calmly, phrasing it as a question though he looked as if he already knew what Alfred's answer would be. It was obvious, since Alfred had brought witnesses, what would be occurring this morning.

Alfred nodded and walked slowly around the desk to stand beside Ivan. He could feel cold sweat on his hands and wiped them gently on his pants. He wondered if he would be able to go back to wearing dresses once this little ceremony was over. He missed the comfort and normality they gave him. Maybe he would also be able to stop wearing the chest bindings. It would be nice to be able to move more freely and breathe more easily, even though the magic ensured the wrap was never uncomfortable.

Ivan turned to face Alfred and Toris moved forward to pick up the ribbon. The flash of dormant spell symbols in the silken length of cloth did nothing to help Alfred's nerves. Ivan raised his right hand and Alfred mirrored him, clasping the fingers of his left hand through Ivan's. He shivered as the cold magical aura that always cloaked Ivan swam around him. The skin of Ivan's hand was unnaturally cool beneath his own, but not uncomfortably so. The magical currents in the air were gentle with their icy touch and Alfred found himself relaxing slightly.

Toris wound the ribbon slowly around their raised arms, starting from the clasped hands and winding all the way down to the elbow, fully binding their forearms together. Alfred could feel both Matthew and Gilbert at his feet, each resting lightly against one of his legs. Toris tied off the ribbon and the magic flared, the ribbon glowing brightly before seeming to sink into their skin. Just like the bonding with Gilbert, this one hurt. There had been no way to do the cleansing ceremonies first without alerting too many people to the event. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek, one hand clenched at his side, the other squeezing desperately at Ivan's. Even the prince wasn't unaffected, his mouth pressed in a tight line and his eyebrows furrowed sharply. Alfred closed his eyes, waiting for the pain and nausea to subside.

As the pain abated, Alfred felt something different take its place; a strange fullness in his head and chest. He could feel Ivan in his head, more clearly than the presence of his Familiars. He could feel magic in his body, both ice and fire twining together. It was overwhelming and Alfred swayed a little on his feet, his vision blurring and greying before focusing again.

And then everything was done. Something settled into place and the feelings were suddenly bearable. Letting out the breath he didn't remember holding, Alfred loosened his grip on Ivan's hand and stepped back, glancing around the room. There was a thing coating of ice on everything, including the witnesses. Feliks was busy trying to strip it from his hair, while Eduard and Toris were rubbing at their faces and arms. Alfred glanced down to find himself and Ivan both completely ice free, as well as the cricket and dragon at their feet. Gilbert looked incredibly miffed about something and Alfred abruptly realized where the fire magic he could still feeling inside himself had come from. He wondered if Gilbert would be able to use his magic anymore, now that it was contained within Alfred, or if all the magic would be accessible only by Ivan, as was usual with this bonding. Alfred had no idea, nothing about this bonding matched anything Alfred had read or been taught.

Alfred's internal musings were cut short as the three witnesses approached the desk and Ivan picked up a quill and one of the knives. He signed the bottom of the bonding contract swiftly and then pressed the blade to the pad of his thumb, letting blood well up around it. The bloody thumb print went next to his signature. Alfred picked up his own quill and knife. The signature was swift, if messy, but he hesitated with the knife, cutting edge hovering over his thumb.

A hand landed softly on the small of his back, coolness seeping through his light shirt. He glanced up to meet Ivan's gaze. The prince looked completely calm, though the presence in his mind was anything but. It was nice to know that – whatever his expression may imply – the prince was still human and was in almost as much emotional turmoil over this as Alfred. He broke their gaze and pressed the knife into his thumb, biting his lip at the sting as he pressed the digit to the paper.

Both he and the prince moved away to let the others come forward and sign. Alfred sucked on the cut, waiting for the bleeding to stop. It wouldn't take long, the cut wasn't deep. It hurt more than Alfred thought it should, though. It took only a few seconds to get the witnesses signatures on the document since they didn't need their blood to seal it. Soon, Toris was rolling up the piece of parchment and telling both Feliks and Eduard to accompany him into town to deliver it to the Mage's Registry Office. As they opened the door to leave, Alfred caught a glimpse of the morning sky, barely any brighter than when he had come in. The whole process had probably only taken half an hour. To Alfred it was almost a different lifetime. He was, for all intents and purposes, married now in a very permanent kind of way.

'Until death do us part,' Alfred thought wryly, mentally mocking the ceremonial words for a basic wedding. It was funny that a ceremony that could be annulled used such words, whereas a ceremony that could never be undone used no words at all. Alfred glanced up at his new life partner. He supposed there were worse people he could have ended up bonded to, everything considered.

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><p>Alfred spent the rest of the day in Ivan's quarters getting his few belongings moved in. He kept glancing at the bed that was the centrepiece of the room. The one he would be sharing with his bonded that night. He felt like he should write his parents. He wished he could be with his mother right now, just talking and being held.<p>

Ivan had left for the palace soon after the others had gone to deliver the bonding document. The prince had to inform his father – the emperor, Alfred's mind kept whispering in awe – of his recently acquired spouse. Though Ivan had shown no outward feelings over the matter, Alfred had felt both worry and wicked delight warring for reign over Ivan's emotional state. Right now, Ivan seemed to have settled in to enjoy his father's reaction. Alfred wondered what emotions Ivan could feel roiling within him. Probably something between shock and terror, even over such a distance.

A knock at the door made Alfred jump. Should he answer it? Ivan hadn't said anything about how to deal with visitors. What if it was someone from the army here to discuss tactics or report news from the frontlines? If it was important, Alfred couldn't just leave them outside, but how would he explain what he was doing here when Ivan wasn't present?

Alfred opened the door slowly, peeking around the frame. There was a small woman standing nervously outside the door, with two men behind her carrying all the supplies of a tailor.

"Would you be Alfred?" the lady asked.

"Yes," Alfred replied cautiously, jumping back in shock when the woman's nervous attitude abruptly melted and she shoved her way inside.

"I'm the royal seamstress," she announced imperiously, motioning the men behind her to start setting up all the items they carried. She looked critically over Alfred's state of dress, clucking her tongue. Alfred was more aware than ever that all he had on was the chest binder, a shirt, and his sleep pants.

She whipped a measuring tape out of the purse at her waist and began circling Alfred, taking his measurements and muttering to herself all the while. Alfred thought he could feel the nausea from the ceremony coming back.

"How do you feel about blue and white, dear?" the industrious woman asked suddenly. "You would wear those colours well. Maybe some darker tones and some black as well."

Alfred didn't think she expected an answer and so remained silent. This seemed to be the right thing to do, since she went back to her mutterings. Finally, she moved away and gave some quick orders to her helpers, both of whom left hurriedly. They had set up a foot stool, a mannequin, and a table full of scissors and pins and other sewing paraphernalia.

While waiting for them to return, the seamstress took a few slates and some chalk off the table and began sketching. Alfred couldn't see what she was doing and instead chose to seat himself behind Ivan's desk, holding his stomach as the nausea continued to build. It wasn't until he felt a wet trickle slide down his leg that he realized why he was so nauseous – and it had nothing to do with the morning ceremony. Alfred couldn't help but feel a small amount of relief; it looked like tonight would hold nothing more spectacular than sleeping. On the other hand, he had to find some bandages and fast, before his clothing was ruined.

Alfred jumped up and ran into the bedroom, ignoring the startled inquiries from the woman he left in the office. His first search through the room proved useless, so he checked the bathroom. No luck. More than frustrated and a little desperate, Alfred returned to the bedroom and dropped to his knees. There, he spotted the injury kit tucked away under the bed. Grabbing a long roll of bandages, Alfred dashed back into the bathroom.

He quickly shucked his pants, noting with dismay that he hadn't been fast enough; there was a small red patch soaked into the fabric of the crotch. Hopefully it wouldn't be noticeable while he was standing. Alfred bound himself tightly in the bandages, noting with embarrassed horror that Ivan had clued in to why he was panicking and was more than amused by the situation.

'And pleased, the stupid bastard,' Alfred thought huffily. The prince was lucky he was across the city in the palace, because at this moment in time Alfred would quite cheerfully deck him in the face. Alfred had a newfound appreciation for his mother's frequent rants about the male species in general.

The sound of the front door opening and closing announced the return of the seamstress' helpers and Alfred pulled back on his ruined pants and went back into the office. The next few hours were full of pins and fabric, though Alfred couldn't bring himself to complain. The seamstress had apparently been ordered to make him some dresses and he couldn't wait to be out of men's clothing. His days of hiding were finally over and it was a load of stress off his shoulders. Even the war raging outside the eastern city walls couldn't dampen his spirits as he slipped on a dress for the first time in weeks.

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><p>Ivan watched as his father paced the room like one of his prized tigers. He could almost see the cloud of anger around his father, the atmosphere in the room was so thick. It did nothing to cool the emperor's rage to have Vash cackling gleefully off to one side; the Royal Consort always got an inordinate amount of entertainment out of seeing the emperor in a snit. Especially, it seemed, when the crown prince waltzed in and announced that he taken a peasant farm boy as a consort. Honestly, Alfred was taking the whole thing better than his father and the poor boy had gone from being nothing more than a soldier to a prince's consort in less than a day. Ivan could feel Alfred's stress all the way across the city back at their quarters.<p>

_Their quarters._ Ivan had never actually thought he would ever refer to his rooms as being shared with someone else. He had promised himself that he would never expose someone to his rather volatile magic unless it was on a battlefield. Alfred, however, didn't seem to mind the icy aura that followed Ivan everywhere, no matter how hard he tried to suppress his magic. It probably had something to do with having a dragon Familiar, the fire magic enough to cancel out most of the harmful effects of the ice magic.

Finally, his father stopped pacing and turned to face Ivan.

"You have completed the bond?"

Ivan nodded.

"Signed and submitted all the documents?"

Ivan sighed and nodded again. They had already discussed this.

"You are sure he able to bear –"

"Yes, father," Ivan snapped, interrupting Roderick. Both men glared at each other for a length of time.

"Very, well," Roderick eventually conceded. "I will accept your peasant spouse."

"His name is Alfred," Ivan grit out. His father could be unbearably snobbish. Vash let out a fresh peal of laughter.

Roderick ignored the correction and waved his son off.

"Bring him to the palace tomorrow for lunch," Roderick ordered. "I would meet my son-in-law before you both run off into battle."

Ivan took the dismissal gratefully and stalked out of the room. He felt bad about wishing misfortune on his country, but he hoped the invading easterners did something drastic enough to put off the impending family luncheon.

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><p>Hopefully I've answered most of the questions people had without giving away too much of the story. Things are going to be drifting away from the actual Mulan storyline much more drastically now, so I'm hoping events will surprise some people.<p> 


	14. Chapter 12

A/N: So just to clear things up, I know that a period isn't a for sure indicator of being able to conceive (I am female, after all :P) but not having one at all is a pretty good sign that you can't. Also, this chapter is a little lame, in my opinion, so brace yourselves. I tried to get it to flow better, but this was all I could manage.

Warnings: violence and blood

Pairings: RusAme, Edelweiss

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><p><span>Chapter 12: Into Battle<span>

Alfred shifted uncomfortably as he stood beside Ivan in front of all the troops. This was twice as awkward as anything else that had happened today and that included waking up in the same bed as his prince and superior officer.

Earlier, Ivan had called all the men who had been at the training camp with Alfred to give a brief explanation of what had happened. Alfred could see the suspicious looks and knew that the story of training up his Consort for war wasn't really sticking with the men – Ivan knew it too, Alfred could feel it – but no one questioned the story. At least not in public; the recruits had grown close over the short time training and were willing to overlook issues with the official story if it meant protecting their comrades. It still didn't make bearing the odd looks any easier, especially now that he was back in a dress.

Originally, he had been pleased and more than relieved to have the familiar garment back on, but now that he was out in public it drew much more attention than he would like. At least his Familiar's liked it, Alfred thought bemusedly, watching them hide in the folds of his pale blue skirt. Also, the skirts were all split so he could ride properly without the dress climbing his thighs when they finally joined the war. And the dresses were beautiful, nicer than anything Alfred had ever owned before; another plus. He may be the centre of gossip in the barracks right now, but at least he looked good.

Another look at the group that the prince was addressing, for they would be moving to the front lines today – the city gate was failing, which wasn't good but had interrupted the lunch with the Emperor – and Alfred shifted a little so he was partially hidden behind Ivan. And thank the gods the prince was so tall and made such a good wall between him and the crowd. Alfred didn't think he would ever get used to such a public life. Not that he had much choice anymore, now that he was bonded to the crown prince. Never had the words 'long live the emperor' ever had more meaning. Even though, during their brief meeting earlier today, the man had been less than pleasant to him.

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><p>"<em>You must be the peasant Consort my son has chosen," Emperor Roderick said, looking down his nose at Alfred. Alfred bit his tongue, the only thing keeping him from retorting and ruining all chances of getting along with his father-in-law the fact that the man had to tilt his head back and almost rise onto his toes to even manage looking down on him.<em>

"_This is _Alfred_," Ivan growled from his left, stressing his name. "your new son-in-law and the future Royal Consort." Alfred watched in fascination as the emperor's left eyebrow twitched, the spasm making his eyelid flutter awkwardly. That kind of muscle stress couldn't be good for anyone. _

_As the prince and his father continued to stare each other down, Alfred's attention wandered to the grumpy looking blonde standing slightly behind the emperor. Alfred assumed that this was Vash, the current Royal Consort. There was a female eagle Familiar standing idly at Vash's feet and watching Gilbert and Matthew. Vash was also looking down at the Alfred's Familiars, shooting the occasional curious glance up at Alfred, but neither of them spoke into the silence and tension between father and son._

_The two men continued to stare each other down. The identical expressions – tight lips and narrowed eyes – would have been comical if Alfred weren't so nervous about being in the same room as the man who ruled the empire. Vash, on the other hand, seemed to have no such constraints and looked to be getting fed up with the situation. He moved over to Roderick and gave the man's shin a sharp kick, then turned to Alfred._

"_It will be nice to have someone around without a royal stick up their ass," Vash announced, as casually as if they were discussing the weather, but with a sharpness to his voice that belied his irritation._

_This said, he took Alfred by the arm and started to lead him over to the small table that had been set up for the occasion. As he sat, Alfred couldn't help but stare in growing horror at the delicate china and multitudes of silverware. This was supposed to be a casual lunch, but there were at least four different sized forks and a few knives lined up on either side of the plate in front of him._

_A cough from the other side of the table alerted Alfred to the fact that the emperor was still standing and looking at Alfred expectantly. Flushing in mortification over his mistake, Alfred made to stand back up and wait for the Emperor to seat himself. However, cold hands on his shoulders held him down. Ivan was still glaring at his father and took his seat as well, ignoring the red tinge that was coming over Roderick's face. Vash started laughing loudly and pushed the Emperor down._

_As soon as they were all seated, servants swept in bearing trays of appetizers and small sandwiches, along with steaming pots of tea. Alfred hoped he could request water or milk without being rude. He really didn't like tea._

_However, Alfred didn't have to worry about sitting through an entire meal in the tense atmosphere or wondering about alternate drinks or which silverware was for what. Before the servants could even finish placing the food down the doors burst open to reveal a terrified messenger._

"_Your Majesties!" the boy cried, breaths tearing in gasps from his throat. "The gates are breaking, they won't hold more than another hour!"_

_Ivan didn't even excuse them, just grabbed a couple sandwiches and pulled Alfred from his seat and out the door. Alfred hadn't thought he'd ever be glad of going off to battle._

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><p>Alfred jumped slightly as all the assembled men yelled loudly and disbanded to get ready for the first march on the invaders. Alfred had long since tuned out whatever speeches were being made by the army officials and he belatedly realized that it was already time to leave the protection of the city walls and face the swords and arrows of the enemy.<p>

Kahn shifted nervously, reacting to the nervous tension and anticipation that sat so heavily in the air Alfred almost couldn't breathe. Beside him sat Ivan, mounted on his giant war stallion. Alfred couldn't tell how the prince felt at the moment, even with the presence sitting heavily in his mind. Ivan was staring straight forward at the northern gate.

The plan was to loop around from both the south and the north, flanking the enemy on both sides as the troops holding the eastern gate kept the invaders busy with their last reserves of hot oil and harpoons. It was this hastily assembled, last-ditch effort kind of plan that made Alfred grasp just how badly the war was going.

A gloved hand settled lightly over his and Alfred only then realized that he had been clenching his reins in white-knuckled fists. He glanced up to see violet eyes watching him in understanding and knew that Ivan could feel his fear. Alfred wrenched his eyes away, embarrassment roiling in his stomach and mixing with the fear in a nauseous combination. He really was terrible at this whole Consort business. What sort of war mage's Consort couldn't handle charging into battle with their spouse?

The hand on his tightened and another came up to tug his chin so he was once more looking at Ivan. No words were spoken, but Alfred saw the calm in those bright violets and took a steadying breath. He could hear the low whispers of his Familiars from where they sat behind him, waiting for the gates to open so they could ride out and stop the enemy from breaking through into the city.

An arrow flared into the sky from the eastern walls, looking for all the world like a soldier's nervous misfire. But the gates rolling open in front of them showed the fiery shot as the signal it was and the foot soldiers started marching, the mounted war mages behind them. Alfred gave the hilt of his sword one last squeeze and made sure that his bow and quiver were tightly in place, then kicked Kahn into a walk, filing out along side Ivan and the other mages and Consorts.

Alfred wheeled his horse desperately, searching the crowd of flashing swords and spells for a head of silver hair. It was hard to tell anymore who was friend and who was foe and Alfred thought he'd be seeing blood, feeling it slide down the hilt of his sword and onto his hands, splatter across his face and clothes for days to come. If he survived and his chances were looking slimmer by the second. More and more all he could see were the standards and uniforms of the Eastern Kingdom.

He let Kahn stamp on one enemy, kick another's skull in as he hacked at those coming from the sides. An arrow stuck into his ribs and he fell from Kahn, the warhorse standing protectively over his rider and beating off sword-bearing soldiers as Matthew grabbed the arrow, yanking it out so Gilbert could weave a quick and dirty healing spell over the split flesh. Sweat trickled into his eyes as he tried to stand and remount the horse, but soldiers piled around him and he couldn't get to the saddle, instead finding himself hacking desperately at his attackers.

Suddenly, his sword was deflected harshly out of his hands, winging off into the melee of bodies, both dead and alive. Alfred hit his hands and knees, crawling back under his horse. This was it, he realized, an eerie calm washing over his body, everything around him seeming to slow as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He was going to die, here in the blood and mud with his horse and Familiars. At least he wouldn't be dying alone.

A glint out of the corner of his eye and Alfred turned, a small shred of hope making him believe for a second that it was his sword. He grabbed up the piece of metal to find it wasn't his sword, as he had thought, but one of the hand cannons used by some of the burlier foot soldiers and war mages. Alfred had never fired one before, but he had seen them used in the practice fields by the more advanced recruits during his short stint in training. He checked the chamber and found it was loaded, the shot shimmering with the runes that would cause it to discharge with fire and shreds of metal on impact.

Alfred looked around at what he could see of the battle from underneath Kahn, searching for an area that had many enemy soldiers and as few allies as possible. Suddenly, his own soldiers seemed much more numerous, though still heavily outweighed by the enemy. As his eyes flickered around the troops he saw a flash and splintered wood was raining around him. The gates had finally fallen and he watched as the invaders started swarming toward the gates. In all the chaos caused by the breach in city defences, Alfred saw his chance. The crumbling walls were looming dangerously over the crowd of soldiers trying to enter the city. Alfred took aim with the hand cannon, hoping his shot would take the walls down onto the enemy forces and give the empire time to regroup and keep the city.

Just as he went to fire, Alfred saw the bright flash of silver he had been searching for. Ivan came charging over the remains of the gates and landed on top of the man leading the assault. He watched as the prince and Yao went down in a tangle of limbs and swords. In a moment of hesitation, he saw the prince look up, searching the field and finding Alfred's distinctive black stallion. Their eyes met and Ivan mouthed one word.

Shoot.

Alfred took a deep breath and steadied his aim back on the wall. The kickback after he set off the weapon was great, knocking his backwards several feet and slamming his shoulder and head against the heavy metal armour of the dead man who had probably wielded the cannon before Alfred. Just before darkness fully crawled across his vision, Alfred saw the walls crumble, dust flying everywhere as soldiers scattered to try and avoid the cascading chunks of stone. Ivan and Yao both disappeared in the spray of earth and rock and Alfred's head lulled back the sky blurring a couple times before disappearing completely.

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><p>So I cut this off here, even though it is right in the middle of a huge part of the plot, but I had to cut this chapter in half. Hope you all get some enjoyment out of this choppy little chapter.<p> 


	15. Chapter 13

A/N: Alright guys, so I just started at a new job and it's gonna be keeping me pretty busy, but i will try my best to keep on top of my updates and get this story finish.

Warnings: death (non-major), violence

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><p><span>Chapter 13: Picking Up The Pieces<span>

Waking up was a slow process and Alfred became aware of his body in small gradual parts. The first thing he felt was the tightness of the skin on his face and the burning heat on his body. Next came the dull ache at the back of his skull, and finally he realized that he just hurt everywhere. Peeling his eyes open Alfred found himself roasting slowly in his armour beneath a midday sun. He sat up and glanced around.

He was still exactly where he had fallen after shooting the hand cannon at the walls. Around him was a litter of blood and bodies, the heat of the sun causing bloating and the heavy scent of death lingered in the air. No one had come to clean up the dead, nor had any survivors been pulled off the field; Alfred could see others, much like himself, waking to find themselves still where they had fallen.

Something sour twisted in his gut and Alfred wondered if bringing down the wall on Ivan and Yao had done anything at all to turn the tide of the battle or if it had been too little too late for the empire's troops.

A sudden thought occurred to him and Alfred lay back down into the mess of bodies. He couldn't be sure that the other men wandering aimlessly through the decay were on his side. He hadn't made it this far just to be stabbed by some lingering easterner. Trying to move as little as possible, Alfred fished around for the fasteners of his armour, sighing in relief as he found them and the hot metal fell from his body to the ground on either side. A slight breeze filtered up his skirt and through the blouse of his dress and he breathed out in pleasure. His face still felt tight from what would probably develop into a nasty sunburn, but the cool breeze and just breathing was enough for Alfred right now. He was alive.

Ivan may not be though. The thought reminded Alfred that he still had no idea what had happened after the wall came down. Fishing around in his mind, Alfred managed to find his Familiars, both still unconscious somewhere in the mess around him, and the faint pulsation of his bond with Ivan. It was faint and Alfred couldn't tell if it was due to distance or if Ivan was only hanging onto life by a thread, but it was there and that was all the motivation he needed to get himself up and off the field. If Ivan was still alive it meant that either the empire had won or that there was still hope. In any case, Alfred had better things to be doing than slowly cooking himself among the dead.

Alfred rolled his body so he was on all fours, body low to the ground and hidden between piled bodies and a couple dead horses. Digging through the refuse of the battle, Alfred managed to locate a tiny leg and what felt like a scaly tail. Praying the latter didn't belong to a snake, Alfred gave both appendages a sharp tug and pulled Matthew and Gilbert out into open air. Matthew groaned and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, while Gilbert opened his eyes and glared balefully up at Alfred.

"What happened?" Matthew asked groggily, staggering to his feet so he could peer out over the bodies around them. "Did we win?"

"I dunno," Alfred murmured, looking around to make sure none of the other wandering survivors could see or hear them. "But not likely, seeing as we're still laying out here."

Gilbert scratched slowly at his head as he surveyed the area of destruction, focusing on the mound of rubble that had once been the eastern gate of the Imperial City.

"So what're we gonna do?" the dragon asked after a moment of silence among the three.

"We're going to find out what's going on, obviously," Matthew grumbled, moving to stand next to Gilbert and observe what could be seen of the city. "Find out who's still alive and whether there's even an empire to be saved anymore."

"Ivan's alive," Alfred said pointedly, poking Matthew sharply in punishment for his pessimism. "Which means whether the emperor is alive or not, there's still someone to take the throne. If Ivan's alive and free, he'll be trying to take back the city; round up all the soldiers he can. We need to find him."

"Sounds like a great idea," Gilbert muttered with an edge of sarcasm. "How about a plan on actually getting into the city without being seen first?"

Alfred bit his lip and looked around at the bodies surrounding them. He spotted a cloak that looked to be in good repair and blood free. If he kept the hood up and tightened the bodice of his dress a little to emphasize what little breasts he had, he might be able to pass for a woman. He doubted the soldiers occupying the city would think much of a woman wandering around. Even so, they would keep to the back roads.

Alfred grabbed up the cloak and wrapped it around himself, silently sending up a prayer and apology for the dead man. Hiking up his skirts, Alfred motioned for Matthew and Gilbert to get under them.

"You'll have to stay out of sight once we're in the city," Alfred explained, then shot a warning glare at them both – though mostly at Gilbert. "And don't you dare look up." This done, Alfred started to crawl his way across the field toward the destroyed gates.

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><p>It turned out that getting into the city was easier than getting through it. Alfred had forgotten that he had no idea where anything was in the city even while following the main roads, let alone the back alleys. He wandered slowly through unfamiliar streets, most empty except for the random patrol of soldiers.<p>

The soldiers weren't imperial – bore the colours of the Eastern Kingdom – and Alfred made sure to stay well out of their sight whenever he saw an approaching patrol. Such was how Alfred found himself crouched behind a stack of crates like some lowly criminal skulking in the shadows. The passing soldiers seemed very relaxed, considering they were in recently conquered enemy territory and were conversing loudly amongst themselves. Alfred clutched at his skirts wishing he had a short sword or dagger to use as protection. He leaned out slightly from his hiding place so he could hear what the passing group was saying to one another. Matthew and Gilbert peered out from under the edges of his skirts, watching the soldiers warily.

"Be glad we have street patrol," one soldier was chuckling at another. "I heard the ones in charge of the prison had to put down three attempted break outs already and we haven't even finished rounding up the last of the imperials. Damn bastards don't know when they're beat."

"Better than wandering empty streets and twitching every time a curtains flutters," the other muttered, being elbowed around playfully by the two on either side of him. "I can feel the civilians watching me, gives me the creeps. All these empty streets."

"You'd rather them swarm us in a riot?" the third interjected. "No glory in dying because some filthy peasant of the empire caught you up unawares."

The whiner seemed inclined to give up and let his companions lead him further along the streets. Alfred frowned and wished that they had been gossiping about something more useful. He had no idea who was in charge, but if Ivan had survived there was a good chance Yao was still running around. At least he had some idea where the surviving soldiers were being kept. Maybe he could find a few he was familiar with and help them escape. It sounded like they were already making some pretty good attempts at it in any case.

Alfred slipped across the main street and down yet another ally, heading off to search for the prison. Not that he knew where it was; unless he was lucky he could be searching the rest of the day and night.

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><p>Three hours later, a torn hem, lost shoe, and more close calls than he'd rather think about and Alfred was gazing down at a make shift prison. Wooden pens had been haphazardly mangled together from the wreckage caused by the invasion and had the few remaining imperial troops within them. Alfred looked them over, searching carefully for any familiar faces. He bit his lip to stifle an excited laugh as he caught sight of two blondes pacing irritably around their pen, a strange brunette leaning casually against a one of the wooden slats barring them in. Eduard and Feliks were still alive.<p>

But how to get them out? The place was packed with eastern soldiers – most likely due to all the attempts at breaking out – and Alfred saw no way of getting to the cages without being seen. Alfred hunkered back onto the roof he was sitting on and turned to look over at his Familiars.

"Have any ideas on how we can get to them?" Alfred asked quietly, gesturing vaguely at the cages below.

"All of them," Matthew asked disbelievingly as Gilbert just snorted and shook his head.

"No, just that one cage," Alfred leaned back over and pointed to where his friends were still pacing like enraged tigers. "Three should be enough. Too many and we can't keep hidden from the patrols."

Matthew and Gilbert looked at each other in thought. Alfred could almost see the light of an idea gleaming in their eyes.

"We could go start a fire," Gilbert suggested, tugging at his hair. "Draw them off long enough for you to get those three out. Meet back up here?"

"Sounds good," Alfred agreed, already pushing to his feet so he could wend his way across the roof tops until he could get down onto the cage.

"Don't do anything extreme," Matthew said warningly. "You can't help them all at once."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Alfred waved off Matthew's warning. He wasn't stupid. So maybe he had been considering how long a fire could keep the guards distracted, but freeing the city was more important. He knew that.

Alfred watched the dragon and cricket skitter off to find something flammable and decently close to the prison to distract most of the guards. Hopping carefully along the roof tiles, Alfred made his way over to the cage that held Feliks and Eduard. When he was on the roof above it, he leaned over to figure out where the door to the pen was and whether or not he would be able to get it open. Luckily, the wood seemed to be damaged in a few areas from all the fighting. If Feliks and Eduard helped him out they may be able to break it open before too much attention was drawn.

While he waited for the fires to start, Alfred watched the brunette in the cage worriedly. The man didn't seem too perturbed by being caught and Alfred hoped he wouldn't be a problem during the escape. A commotion across the yard suddenly had soldiers running everywhere and Alfred looked up to see that several large supply wagons of food and military equipment were swiftly burning to the ground. He'd have to get something really nice from his Familiars if they survived this.

Once enough of the guards had been drawn off across the prison, Alfred hopped down onto the cage, startling the occupants.

"Alfred?" Feliks squeaked in disbelief.

"Shhhh!" Alfred hissed, shimmying his way over the side of the wooden pen. It was hard to do without flashing his underwear at the entire yard.

Once far enough over the edge, Alfred dropped to the ground. He would also owe Ivan a really nice gift; if it weren't for all the climbing and drills he'd put them through Alfred would never have been able to clamber up or down from the rooftops. Alfred grabbed at one of the wooden bars with the most damage and started to tug at it. Seeing what he was doing, the three prisoners rushed over and started pushing from the other side.

The wood gave with a loud crack, drawing attention from some of the nearer pens, but not enough to draw any of the guards away from trying to put out the wagons. Alfred helped the three worm their way out through the space left by the broken board. He nearly fell over in surprise as he finally recognized the brunette. Lieutenant Laurinaitis gave Alfred a grateful smile as the blonde helped to pull him out of the prison.

"Where now?" asked Eduard promptly, watching the busy guards worriedly.

"Up," Alfred answered, pointing to the roof he had dropped from. "Matt and Gilbert are waiting up on the rooftops."

The Lieutenant seemed somewhat confused over the names, but Feliks and Eduard both nodded and boosted Alfred back up onto the cage. Alfred turned back to help each man in turn clamber up after him. As soon as all four of them were up on the roofs they started running back over to the meeting point, keeping well back from the edges so as not to be seen.

By the time they were hunkered down and hidden, the fires had been put out and more yelling had broken out. Alfred guessed that the empty pen had been discovered. He couldn't help the gleefully triumphant grin that spread across his face. Mission accomplished. He turned to look at his three knew accomplices as he felt Matthew and Gilbert approach.

"Do any of you know what's happened?" Alfred asked. "I only just got myself off the battle field earlier today."

"The palace has been taken by Yao," Toris said, frowning and biting his lips. "As far as I know, the emperor and prince are being kept inside as prisoners, but they're still alive."

Alfred nodded at the questioning glances thrown his way. They wanted to know if the prince was at least still alive. All three relaxed a little more as he delivered this news.

"The city is being patrolled and people aren't allowed out of their homes," Alfred murmured, toying with his cowlick as he thought. "Is there any way to get into the palace without having to pass more guards? They're going to be watching for us now."

"The back gardens have ornamental rivers and ponds in them, fed by an overhead aqueduct system," Toris said suddenly, his eyes widening. "Ivan and I used to use them to get away from our tutors and governesses when we were younger. They run the length of the city all the way to the southern gates."

"So we're like going to rescue a prince and save an empire?" Feliks asked excitedly.

"Yep, "Alfred answered, sending Feliks a conspiratorial grin. "That's exactly what we're going to do."

* * *

><p>That's it for this time. This story should get pretty much wrapped up within another four or five chapters (but don't quote me on that).<p> 


	16. Interlude 2

A/N: This is just something short to tide you all over until I can manage to get a new chapter out. However, at the moment i'm kinda busy with the summer fantasia event on lj's russiamerica community (which you should all totally go over and check out, there have been some amazing entries) and I have to finish up my entry for this week as well as start on the one for next week. So next chapter is very much stuck in-progress at the moment.

Warnings: blood, violence, character death

Pairings: Edelweiss, RusAme

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><p><span>Not Every Dynasty: Interlude 2<span>

Ivan watched Yao lounge carelessly in his father's throne. A simmering rage boiled in his gut and he shifted his gaze away from the eastern invader and down to the thick chains that bound both his body and his magic. He didn't want to look at the man that had taken his home and would most likely enslave his people. He only hoped that Alfred – he knew his Consort was alive, could feel him faintly at the edge of his mind – had the sense to go get his family and flee. Loath as he was to admit it, the empire no longer had enough of an army to have any hope of gaining its freedom before the enemy managed to settle in. And the little of the army that was left were all corralled into cages, though Ivan had yet to overhear anything about their fate. Execution if they were lucky. If not...Ivan didn't want to think about it.

Anger getting the better of him, Ivan once more tried to reach for his magic; a futile effort. Just like all the previous attempts, all he encounter was a gaping emptiness, a hole deep inside himself. He wondered how long it would be before he went mad. Most mages disconnected this way lost themselves eventually, he doubted he would be any different.

A commotion at the front of the throne room drew Ivan from his thoughts. A group of eastern soldiers were dragging two people covered in blood and dressed in rags toward Yao. One of the people was blond and spitting and hissing in such a way that would put an angry mountain lion to shame. Ivan's eyes widened as he recognized his father and Vash. Ivan had always felt a deep respect for his father's Consort and it grew again as he watched the man continue to fight his captors, even when it was clear that both he and the emperor had been tortured and humiliated.

Yao stood from the throne as the captives were brought before him. He walked forward and raised a hand to trace along Vash's jaw line and cheek bone. The blonde jerked away with a growl and spat up into Yao's face. The dark-haired man jerked back with a look of utter disgust on his face, taking a kerchief that was offered by one of his men and wiping the spittle that was dripping down the side of his face.

"Has Roderick agreed to acknowledge my rule and cede his emperorship?" Yao asked the officer that stood to one side of the prisoners.

"No, sir – uh, your Majesty," the man said quickly, wincing over his slip. "Both have pledged themselves to death rather than admit to defeat."

"Hmm," Yao's eyes narrowed. "Very well then."

Yao turned sharply on the heel of his boot and strode back to the throne, settling himself back into it.

"Kill them."

"Here, your Majesty?" the officer asked, shock on his features.

"Yes, here," Yao bit out, leaning forward with his bark eyes flashing in anger. "I've decided to get rid of the carpet anyway, replace it with something that more suites my taste in colour."

The officer nodded and motioned to the soldiers holding down Roderick and Vash. Ivan wished he could look away, but found that his eyes couldn't leave his father's silent form. Vash continued to glare hatefully at Yao even as his hair was gripped and his head yanked back. Ivan felt bile rise in his throat as a sword was drawn harshly across the bared throat. He watched as the angry light left green eyes and the body was left to fall forward, blood soaking slowly into the carpet in and ever growing circle.

A choked noise came from his father and Ivan's eyes snapped over to the man. Roderick was staring down at Vash's body, pain etched sharply over his face. It was the most raw, true emotion he'd seen his father display since his mother had passed and Ivan realized for the first time just how much his father had loved Vash.

Purple eyes much like his own were suddenly gazing at him across the room. Ivan watched helplessly as his father's head was also pulled back, blade coming down to slice open his throat and let crimson fall down to pool on the floor with Vash's. Ivan's eyes burned and he ducked his head so that Yao wouldn't get the final pleasure of seeing his cry over the deaths of the last family members he had.

* * *

><p>Unseen by the busy invaders running about the palace trying to ready the place for Yao's coronation, a small figure slipped out a window and down into the streets of the city. In the light of the setting sun, a ring of keys glinted and clinked, clenched in a tiny fist.<p>

Lilly wiped her eyes, but couldn't stop the silent tears that trekked down her face. Her body felt like an empty shell and she knew that death would come to collect her soon, now that her master was dead. The little eagle spread her wings and took to the sky, searching for what she believed was the last hope for the empire's freedom.

She would find the prince's Consort and his Familiars, give them the keys she had stolen from a distracted and busy guard. She had seen them use it to unlock the chains that had imprisoned the emperor and her master. She hoped that Prince Ivan's key was also on the ring.

Yao may wear the crown now, but Ivan was the emperor as far as she was concerned. She hoped Alfred would have the strength to help his husband regain his throne.


	17. Chapter 14

Warnings: implied character death

Pairings: RusAme (nothing else especially noticeable in this chapter)

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><p><span>Chapter 14: Into the Palace<span>

Alfred peered into the dark room beyond one of the palace windows. His clothes were soaked from climbing through the aqueducts and his temper was short from the discomfort. It didn't help that his own frustration was feeding off the irritation both his Familiars were feeling from the long and wet trek.

Toris leaned up on the glass next to him, but the glare from the setting sun was too bright and the room remained a mystery. For all they could tell, they were pressed flush to a window with fifty enemy soldiers watching them.

"We'll just have to open it and hope for the best," Alfred sighed, unsheathing his sword and moving to strike the glass with his pommel. But Toris grabbed him before he could.

"If you make that much noise it won't matter whether the room is empty or not," he reprimanded. "the palace is a big place and things tend to echo."

Alfred gave a sheepish grin and lowered the blade.

"So then how to we, like, get inside?" Feliks demanded, trying his best to wring out water from his pants and shirt.

Toris began moving his hands along the window's edges, searching for a crack or gap large enough to use to pry the window open. As Toris searched, Alfred looked around them. He would admit that his wandering gaze was part paranoia – what if they were somehow spotted? – and part fear. He really didn't like being this far off the ground. The streets below swam in his vision every time he looked down and he could feel the urge to vomit.

It was lucky that he had been letting his attention wander; otherwise he would have completely missed a window farther down opening and a tiny winged person taking flight. The sun glanced off the golden wings of the eagle Familiar and Alfred realized that he knew her. She was the Familiar of the Royal Consort.

Alfred stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. He had time to see her spin in midair, staring at them with wide eyes, something metal glinting between her tiny fists, before he was tackled bodily onto the ledge they were all gathered on. Toris was on top of him pressing his hand firmly over his mouth and pinning him to the ground so he could move. Alfred struggled a little, his angry swearing muffled by the fingers clamped over his lips.

"Are you insane?" Toris demanded in a heated whisper. "We didn't make it this far just to be –"

He cut off abruptly as the little eagle alit beside them, frowning up at Toris.

"You do realize, Captain," she began, her voice strained but soft. "That you just assaulted the Royal Consort."

"He's the prince's consort," Toris corrected, but let Alfred get to his feet anyway. Alfred grumbled hotly under his breath and tugged at his damp clothing, which had stuck to him in odd and uncomfortable ways.

"The Emperor and his Consort are...are dead," she said, her voice breaking a little at the end and she swallowed reflexively, brushing a hand across her eyes. "So Ivan may as well be Emperor now."

Alfred stared at the eagle blankly. For a few crazy moments he thought she was joking. The Emperor couldn't be dead, because Alfred had just seen him the other day. He felt a momentary surge of fear – why kill the emperor and not his successor? – but let out a deep breath when he found Ivan's presence still lurking in the back of his mind. It was stronger now too, since he was at the palace and not wandering down in the city.

The others took the news in much the same way, blank expressions of disbelief followed by horror.

"What happened?" Toris asked, his expression clearly stating that he wasn't sure he actually wanted to know. Alfred just stood and stared at her stupidly, his mind jumbled as the information refused to sink in.

"Yao had them executed in front of him and the prince in the throne room only an hour ago," the Familiar answered, her voice even weaker than before.

Alfred swallowed around a large lump in his throat. He couldn't imagine having to watch his parents get executed. He wondered how Ivan was handling it and wished he was with the prince right now. He wished that the city hadn't fallen in the first place, that Yao had never made it to the Emperor. He looked back down at the eagle and realized for the first time that she was carrying a set of keys.

"What are the keys for?" he asked, his voice sounding awkward and loud in the silence that had fallen after her last statement.

"For you," she said holding them out. Toris reached for them, but she yanked them away with a scowl.

"For Alfred," she clarified. "Seeing as he is technically now the Royal Consort and therefore has the most authority here."

Toris glanced over at Alfred before he bowed slightly at the waist in acknowledgement. Alfred felt his face go up in flames and he reached for the keys in embarrassment. Him, the Royal Consort. Somehow he hadn't actually thought of the possibility that he would someday help rule the empire if he bonded with Ivan. It felt vaguely like he'd been sucker punched in the stomach.

As soon as he had the keys in his hand, she sighed wearily and sank down to lean against the wall. It was only then that Alfred realized how pale she was. It hadn't really sunk in that her master was dead, meaning she would soon follow him onto the next plane. Alfred watched as Mattie walked forward and knelt down next to her, taking a hand gently in his own. He felt his eyes prick with the beginnings of tears and turned away from the scene, only to find Toris, Feliks, and Eduard watching him expectantly. He realized that he was now effectively in charge of the group.

"Uh," Alfred began, unsure of what to say. "I guess we'll just go in the window she came out of."

Feliks rolled his eyes, but a smile was tugging at his mouth.

"Sounds good," he said and started to edge his way along a thin piece of edging that ran in a line along the palace and acted as the upper border of an ornate set of relief sculptures. Eduard and Alfred followed him – Gilbert sitting easily on one of Alfred's shoulders – and Toris took up the rear.

Alfred watched as Feliks leaned forward to peek around the edge of the window into the hall it opened onto.

"A guard patrol just, like, went around the end corner, we should be good to go," Feliks announced in a loud whisper, hopping down into the palace hall. They all crowded in after him and Alfred turned to Toris.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Yes," Toris answered, more quietly than Feliks had spoken. "This is the third floor of the east wing. The armoury is on the first floor and this floor and the second act as housing for the palace staff."

Alfred felt an idea flicker to life in his mind.

"Where do they keep the livery and cleaning supplies?" he asked, glancing at the doors lining the hall.

"The spares you mean?" Toris asked, sounding confused. Alfred nodded hurriedly, watching carefully for any sign of more patrolling guards. "On the fourth floor. The stairs should be just around the corner."

"Good, let's hope that Yao still has servants running things."

* * *

><p>"This is ridiculous," Eduard groused, tugging at the uniform he was attempting to put on. "There's no way this will work."<p>

"Worked for me going the opposite way," Alfred said with a shrug, tightening the ties to the chambermaid dress he had found for himself. "Besides, the colour suites you."

Eduard scowled as Feliks giggled softly.

"I totally like this whole dress thing," he announced, twirling his own dress. He and Eduard were in scullery maid uniform so they could get into the lower areas of the palace and barricade all the entrances and exits so no one could be sent to get help from the enemy soldiers out in the city.

Toris and Alfred were dressed as chambermaids so they could access the rooms Yao had chosen to occupy. A giggling and flushed girl stood watch by the door. She was a laundry maid, but had given them all the information they needed to get around the palace and put their plan into action. Once they were on their way, she would go to alert other members of palace staff to the events. They weren't trained soldiers, but they knew the layout of the palace better than any others and would be an invaluable asset to retaking the empire.

It was funny to see Feliks so comfortable in women's clothing, in contrast to how completely awkward both Toris and Eduard appeared. There was something missing though. The dresses had been designed for women, so the chest area had more room than needed and the front bagged out and hung strangely on their male figures. Alfred tapped his lips in thought, glancing around the room for something to remedy the problem without just looking like a bundle of clothing had been stuffed down the front.

As Alfred began moving around the room, a soft finger tapped at his shoulder. He turned to find the laundry maid giving him a mischievous grin.

"I have an idea," she said. "If you're looking for what I think you're looking for."

She led Alfred over to a side room, which she explained was used for taking meals by the staff in charge of the upper floors. On the table was a bowl of fruit. Alfred laughed and picked out a couple apples and some plump oranges.

"These will be just perfect."

* * *

><p>Ivan groaned and tried to shift his position, but no matter which way he knelt the bruises on his knees and the ache in his back couldn't be eased. It was dark in the throne room, the only light barely making it halfway across the room as it filtered through the slightly cracked doors. He could hear the chatter of the night guards on the other side, but was too tired to bother trying to listen in at all.<p>

His chains pulled tight around his wrists as he shuffled his feet underneath his and pressed up to let his back unbend for a few blissful second, before he dropped back to his knees, wincing as they hit the hard marble. He wondered if he would get any sleep tonight. He hadn't the night before, but that was more due to the agitation caused by not knowing whether Alfred was alright. He could feel his Consort somewhere within the palace right now and, while it was easing his mind to know Alfred was alright and nearby, he also hoped the young blonde wouldn't do anything stupid.

A small, soft pressure on his thigh had him glancing down, wondering if the palace had mice running around again. Instead he found Alfred's little cricket Familiar, Matthew, standing next to him. Ivan let out a long breath and felt another bit of tension roll off his body. It was one thing to know Alfred was somewhere in the palace, another thing entirely to have proof of his current well-being beside him.

Matthew patted Ivan's thigh in a comforting gesture, but remained silent. The little Familiar let out a long yawn and curled next to Ivan. Whatever insane stunt Alfred had planned, it wouldn't be an issue for a while, if Matthew's current state of relaxation was anything to go by. Ivan settled down as comfortably as he could and let his eyes slip closed; maybe he would be able to get some sleep before the excitement started.

* * *

><p>Alfred fluffed the pillows on Yao's bed and turned down the blankets while Toris took care of the wash basin and put out some carefully folded night clothes. All under the watchful eyes of Yao's assigned personal guard. The eastern leader would be returning to settle in for the night any moment.<p>

Looking up across the room, Alfred made eye contact with Toris and tilted his head slightly toward the guards. The men were looking bored and had been eyeing up both his and Toris' backsides for the better part of the last hour while the two had cleaned the room.

It still shocked Alfred every time he looked up and caught sight of Toris. The laundry maid had gone all out with all of them, going so far as to curl their hair and paint up their faces. With a couple large oranges stuffed into a breast band, Toris looked every part the buxom chambermaid. Even when he caught sight of himself in the mirror, Alfred was surprised. He had never looked quite _this_ feminine and he was beginning to appreciate the more male aspects of his appearance more and more the longer he had to feel the heavy paints lining his eyes and lips, the wide curls bouncing along his cheeks.

Toris returned the tilt of the head in recognition and sashayed across the room holding the flagon he had just emptied into the wash basin high so that it pushed his improvised breasts up. He winked at a the guards as he walked past them toward the bathing chamber and the two soldiers gave each other leering grins before following him. Alfred dropped the dirty clothing he had just picked up and ran quietly across the room to lurk outside the door just in case Toris needed any help.

Two loud clangs and a couple quickly cut off yelps came through the door and Alfred knew Toris was handling himself just fine. The door opened moments later and Toris ushered Alfred inside so they could take the soldiers' uniforms. They tossed the unconscious bodies carelessly down the laundry chute with the rest of Yao's dirty clothing and their chambermaid disguises, confident that the other palace servants had been alerted to events and would take care of the soldiers.

Now all that was left was to stand guard outside the door until Yao was settled for the night.

* * *

><p>Feliks gave one last mighty heave and felt a surge of satisfied accomplishment as he felt the heavy bar fall into place, barring the main entrance to the palace. Beside him, Eduard was putting a large padlock around the entire thing. By the time hell broke loose, only those loyal to the empire would have keys to open the locks that had been set on all the exits; the kitchen and laundry staff were busy making sure of that.<p>

He felt like he could practically skip back to the kitchens, where servants were bringing over weapons from the armoury, but restrained himself. No need to alert the enemy to any unnecessary joviality among the conquered. He just hoped everything had gone just as smoothly for Alfred and Toris.

By the time the sun rose, if everything went according to plan, the palace would be theirs and they would have the required foothold to retake the city.

* * *

><p>This chapter is a little clunky, but at least it got written. Hopefully the next one will get out this weekend some time :)<p> 


	18. Chapter 15

A/N: sorry this took so long to get up, but some of the content just didn't want to be written.

Warnings: implied (and pending) non-con.

Pairings: RusAme

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><p><span>Chapter 15: Caught<span>

It was incredibly frustrating, just waiting for something to happen. The anticipation was going to kill him, Matthew decided, twirling his flyaway hair around a finger absently. Either that or the constant heavy tug of the strands of Fata around him. They were especially strong tonight, the salvation or ruin of an empire resting on the shoulders of his master and master's friends. It seemed like no matter how long he sat, half-hidden behind his master's Bonded's large frame he just couldn't get any rest.

This was where he had to stay though. It was wrecking his nerves, knowing that Alfred was somewhere in the palace doing who knows what – probably some insanely reckless plan that Gilbert would love to help with so long as it was 'awesome' sounding – while he just sat here and waited for things to start. This was where he had to be though. If there was one thing he could know for certain out of the jumble of shifting pushes and pulls assaulting his mind, it was that if he wasn't right here when he needed to be, the night would end in blood and misery.

Sometimes his gift really was more of a curse.

Matthew let his head drop forward into his hands, then peeked up at Ivan from between his fingers. The prince was staring stoically at the opposite end of the dark room, watching the faint outline of the doors and listening to the drunken snores of the men supposedly guarding the room. There had been a party out in the antechamber earlier, the sounds of raucous laughter, clinking glasses and bottles, and tumbling dice filtering across the echoing distance between.

He hoped they had celebrated their victory too soon.

* * *

><p>Alfred shifted impatiently in the uncomfortable uniforms they had taken off the two guards. He wanted to be done with this already, and Yao still hadn't turned in for the night. He was unsure of why the man wasn't here yet. Night had fallen already, it was past dinner time and the rest of the palace was quiet, except for the occasional guard patrol that passed them.<p>

Beside him, Toris was idly clicking together the steel guards that covered the backs of his hands. The noise echoed a little in the hall, but that was what they were going for. The impression of lazy, bored men who would much rather be celebrating the victory with their comrades in arms rather than put on guard duty for the night.

Alfred straightened up a little when voices started to sound around the corner at the end of the corridor. The voices were foreign, the language like nothing spoken inside the Empire. It could just be another patrol, but Alfred felt an odd shiver pass up his spine and he knew, just somehow knew, that Yao was finally coming to his rooms.

Toris also shifted nervously next to them. They were hedging their bets on Yao not expecting them to converse with him. It would only take one word and Yao would notice their western accents, their lack of knowledge with the eastern dialects.

The source of the voices came around the corner and Alfred tensed in anticipation. The keys that hung discreetly from the back of his belt are like a lead weight. The group consisted of Yao and a small easterner – the two responsible for the echoing chatter – flanked by four guards. As they approached the rooms, Alfred and Toris stepped swiftly to the side to allow access. The guards behind the pair – still engaged in conversation – nodded swiftly at them and Alfred did his best to return the gesture, hoping it wasn't part of some informal code or anything. It would be just his luck if it were.

Luckily, the men seem appeased by the gesture and turn to leave. The door closed behind Yao and his small companion and one of the escorts turned at the last moment to call something back down the hall. Alfred couldn't understand a word of it, but smiled and nodded, hoping it would be enough. The guard gave him a jaunty wave and continued out of sight. Alfred let out a long breath and turned wide-eyed to Toris, who gave him a shaky smile.

"I have a feeling," Toris began softly, rubbing at his temple. "That we've overlooked something. This all seems far too easy and relaxed for people who have only controlled the city for a day."

Alfred shrugged and was about to reply when a blade was pressed to his throat.

"Yes, much too easy," Yao drawled, his fingers lacing into Alfred's hair to pull his head back and get the blade closer to the neck. The smaller man had a sword pressed between Toris' shoulder blades. "Did you think we wouldn't find the bodies of my guards because you tossed them in with the laundry? I have guards patrolling every level. All the men assigned to me have been under my command for years. I knew the second I saw your faces that you were not who you pretended to be."

Alfred could feel saliva building up in his mouth, but the pressure from the blade made him resist swallowing.

"The question remains, however," Yao continued, systematically pulling all weapons off Alfred's person, including the keys he needed to free Ivan. "Just who exactly you are."

He came around in front of Alfred, the grip on his hair and the blade to his throat never faltering.

"I know who you're companion is. Captain Toris Laurinaitis; commander of the Sixth Imperial Regiment and right hand of the crown prince. It is easy to see why he is here," Yao paused in his speech, peering curiously at Alfred. "I know your face though. I remember when you brought down the wall and almost killed me. Almost killed your prince. What possible importance could a mere soldier have that you are in the company of the Captain?"

Alfred remained silent. Mostly because he was afraid to move due to the threat of cold steel against his skin, but he wouldn't have told this man anything even without the impending possibility of death.

"Tell me, Captain," Yao murmured, addressing Toris, but his eyes never leaving Alfred. "Just who is your young friend here?"

"Our army barely exists anymore," Toris began, his voice smooth even though his hands trembled slightly. "And those who remain are mostly imprisoned. I gathered what men I could."

Yao hummed thoughtfully, his eyes sharp and cruel behind his mask of serenity.

"I suppose, then, that he is disposable."

The blade pressed harder against his throat as Yao's entire body tensed. Alfred closed his eyes and waited for the pain of having his throat slit, waited to feel his life draining wetly from his neck. Toris le out an alarmed shout, lunging forward only to be pressed flat to the ground by the small easterner.

"Hmm, not so disposable after all then," Yao said with a sickly sweet smile. "Who is he, Captain? You have one chance to tell me and if the answer is displeasing, I will kill him."

Toris closed his eyes briefly, his expression resigned. When he opened them again, he met Alfred with an apology in his gaze. For a few agonizing moments, Alfred thought Toris was going to remain silent and let him die, if only to keep him from being used as a weapon against the prince.

"His name is Alfred Braginski nee Kirkland," Toris said, his voice stilted and tight. "And he is Consort to the prince."

"Well, well," Yao breathed, his eyebrows raised and surprise colouring his voice. "I had not heard that the prince had taken anyone as Consort. And a peasant soldier to boot."

Cruel laughter rang down the hall and the blade fell from his neck. Alfred stood frozen for a moment, before leaping into action. He bowled over the man pinning Toris and then bolted down the hall. It only took a moment to realize why Yao only stood and laughed as he tried to make a break for it. The guards from earlier were waiting around the corner. Alfred barely managed to stop his headlong dash before his feet were kicked out from under him and he was pinned, his arms wrenched behind him and tied securely.

The sharp click of boots approaching had him looking up at a still chuckling Yao. The man used his toe to lift Alfred's chin up.

"At least the prince has good taste in commoners," he drawled. "You are a rather pretty man, Alfred. We'll see exactly how much the prince can take, when he sees you tomorrow as my new concubine."

Alfred felt bile rise in his throat and couldn't hold back his expression of horror.

"Put him in the room across from me, see that he is cleaned and ready for presentation tomorrow morning," Yao ordered his men lazily as he turned away and walked back toward his room. "Chain the Captain next to the prince and search the rest of the palace for any more intruders. I want to teach these stubborn Westerners a lesson. The first one to break will be the prince."

As Yao turned to go, Alfred spit at his feet contemptuously. Yao spun back with a hateful glare.

"You are lucky that I want you in perfect condition for my plans, but mark my words. You will be punished for your insolence."

Alfred glared as the man walked away. He let himself be dragged to his new rooms as Toris was hauled off to wherever they were keeping Ivan.

He hoped that Eduard and Feliks would manage to hide themselves.

* * *

><p>Ivan looked up from his half-doze as the doors of the throne room were opened wide and lantern light streamed across the dark expanse. A group of guards were dragging a bound body across the floor. As they came closer, a lantern swung low and illuminated the face of the captive briefly and Ivan's breath hitched slightly. It was Toris, a light bruise forming on his cheek and causing the skin below his eye to yellow.<p>

Toris was deposited sloppily next to him and another couple guards came forward with a new set of chains, binding the man to the wall. Ivan felt Matthew stir slightly behind him and glanced down out of the corner of his eye to see the small cricket staring at Toris in absolute horror. Ivan felt a tendril of cold dread worm its way through his stomach and he reached out with him mind in search of his Bonded. All he could feel was hot anger and bitter defeat. He wished now, more than anything, that he could tell Alfred not to give up.

The guards left the room and the occupants were once again plunged into darkness. As he waited for his eyes to readjust, Ivan felt Toris shift a little next to him, settling in for the long hours of night still to pass.

"Where is Alfred?" Ivan finally asked, his voice soft and flat in the silence. The was a long pause before Toris replied.

"Yao has him locked up somewhere," Toris finally admitted. "He knows that Alfred is your Consort. He was going to kill Alfred if I didn't tell them who he was. I'm sorry, Ivan."

Toris sounded incredibly distressed by the end and Ivan knew that his friend was trying to convince himself that giving Yao a weapon against Ivan was better than letting Alfred die.

"Thank you," Ivan eventually whispered, his heart clenching painfully in both relief and distress. "For protecting him."

"I don't know if he wouldn't have been better off dead," Toris admitted, his voice heavy. "Yao plans to make him into his personal concubine and have some fun with him in front of you."

Ivan clenched his hands into fists, automatically reaching for his magic and once again coming up against nothing but a gaping emptiness. He gritted his teeth and suppressed the shout of rage that he so desperately wanted to let out. No reason to let Yao know any earlier than necessary that he was getting under his skin.

"Alfred's companions, Feliks and Eduard are still somewhere in the castle, I think," Toris said, trying to sound hopeful. "And I don't think Yao managed to get a hold of Alfred's dragon or his cricket. There's still a chance."

"The cricket is behind me," Ivan murmured, feeling Matthew shift as he was mentioned. "And Alfred is stubborn and stronger than he looks. He will find a way out."

Toris said nothing, but pressed his shoulder briefly to Ivan's in a show of comfort and support.

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><p>"Stop moving, they'll notice!" Feliks hissed down at his cousin as they lay between layers of bedding and new clothes.<p>

When the invaders had started searching the castle, the laundry maid from earlier had found them and hidden them away from the soldiers. Now they were pressed tightly in between layers of sheets and clothing being brought up to dress Yao's new concubine. Feliks shuddered as he thought the word, feeling a swell of pity for Alfred and disgust for the men who had invaded his country.

They heard the rough voices of soldiers as the cart came to a stop, followed by the soft voice of the maid. They heard the soldiers make some raucous comments and the maid let out a few nervous titters and squeaks before they were once again moving. The sound of a door shut behind them and layers began to be tossed off bit by bit until they were exposed to the air once more.

Feliks sat up and looked around. The room was barely lit, only two torches still burning, casting long shadows over much of the furniture. The colours were mostly dark reds and blacks. On the middle of the bed, arms and legs bound tightly behind him, was Alfred. He was watching them with wide, hopeful eyes.

Jumping out of the cart, Feliks drew the knife he had tucked into the back of his shirt and crossed the room to cut Alfred's bindings.

"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Alfred gasped out, sitting up and tossing his arms tightly around Feliks.

"I'm, like, getting a pretty good idea," Feliks responded, quickly returning the hug before pushing the other blonde back. "Any idea how we're going to get the Captain and prince outta here?"

Alfred bit his lip and looked at the concubine clothing the maid had laid out on the bed.

"We need to get into the throne room," Alfred said slowly. "It's where Yao will have Ivan and Toris tomorrow, so he can play with me in front of them."

Feliks made a disgusted noise, his face scrunched up.

"So I'll get dressed in the morning and let them take me," Alfred decided. "With Gilbert and a knife hidden on me, it should be enough. You can both get redressed in your maid outfits" – Feliks gave a low cheer over this – "and find a way in the back through the servant halls."

"Where are the keys?" Eduard asked, looking much less enthusiastic about being in a dress again.

"Yao has them," Alfred replied, frowning as he considered the problem. "But if Gilbert sets some stuff on fire – Yao included – it may be enough of a distraction to get the keys away."

"Mattie can grab them while I'm tossing magic around," Gilbert declared, hopping down from where he'd been hiding up on top of the bed's canopy. "He's in the throne room right now, waiting."

"Let's hope this plan works better than the last," Eduard grumbled out, frowning off at a wall.

"It will," Alfred declared, determination burning in his gut. "It has to."

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><p>Oh gosh, I actually felt badly when I wrote this chapter, ruining all Alfred's hopeful plans.<p> 


	19. Chapter 16

A/N: Just an apology beforehand to all my readers for how long it took to get this chapter up. There's a big festival in my town right now and I've been worked to the bone at my job, which kinda left me no energy or time to write. I should be wrapping this story up in another couple chapters and i'm kinda sad to see it end.

Warnings: nudity, attempted noncon, violence

Pairings: RusAme

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><p><span>Chapter 16: Blood for Blood<span>

The knife strapped tightly to his inner thigh felt heavier than it should, like it was weighing down his every step. The gold and ruby choker around his neck felt like a collar binding him to his new station. If he didn't manage to kill Yao today, he would never get another chance. The man was wily, cruel, and would make sure to break him before he ever let his guard down again.

As he was led to the throne room, guards on either side of him and his maids trailing after him, Alfred was more aware than ever of how impossible the task before him seemed. Though Feliks and Eduard had yet to be discovered, Alfred couldn't help but feel that they were following him to their deaths. Yao had known that Toris and he were not who they pretended to be and now Alfred was hedging all his bets on the man not knowing that he had assigned disguised soldiers as Alfred's maids.

The walk seemed immeasurably long, yet much too fast at the same time. Alfred tried not to squirm as Gilbert shifted his grip, the small dragon clinging to his leg inside the flowing skirts and veils draped scantily over his figure. He could feel both Ivan and Mattie drawing closer, the presences in his mind becoming sharper.

A trickle of sweat slide down his temple and Alfred had to take a deep breath in order to steady his hammering heart. In his mind images of training at the camp with his sword played over and over in his mind. He silently talked himself through all the steps, all the forms, hoping desperately that he would be able to apply the same techniques to the much shorter blade that would be his only means of attack.

The doors of the throne room appeared at the end of the corridor as they turned a corner. Alfred held his breath as they opened, wondering just how badly the three of them would be outnumbered. Not that their chances were great even if they weren't outnumbered; all three of them had only spent three weeks training, one day in battle. There hadn't been much hope for them after Toris had been taken.

Inside, the enormous room was almost empty. Alfred breathed a short sigh of relief as he realized that Yao had only brought his second – the short man from last night – and a handful of guards. This wasn't quite as impossible as he had first thought it would be. Alfred stopped walking abruptly as he caught sight of Ivan and Toris, both chained heavily to the wall beside the throne. The guards flanking him gripped him around his upper arms and dragged him across the room. Alfred could have cared less. For the first time since he had seen the rubble of the wall crashing down his eyes were locked with Ivan's. He hadn't realized just how much he had missed that colour purple until a tightness in his chest eased; a knot unwinding inside him.

Alfred watched as Ivan's eyes flickered briefly over the 'maids' trailing behind, but betrayed no hint of recognition. Alfred felt the amusement in his mind though, as well as a swell of pride. No matter the outcome today, the prince was proud of his Consort for continuing to fight. Alfred had to struggle not to smile.

The contact between them was broken as he was dumped onto the thin carpet in front of the throne. Yao looked down at him from his seat, eyes trailing over the gauzy excuse for a dress that covered bits and pieces of Alfred's body. As he hit the floor he felt Gilbert slide off his leg and edge as close to the hem of the skirt as he could without being noticeable. Alfred hoped Yao and his men didn't mind being deep fried.

Yao stood and stepped down from the ornate chair, circling Alfred like a vulture inspecting its prey.

"He is very lovely, Ivan," Yao said with a mocking smile. "You have good taste. Tell me, did you have a chance to test him out?"

Ivan did nothing but stare blankly at Yao.

"No? Such a pity," Yao continued. "I'll have to give you a little show. It will be the most you will get to see of your precious little Consort. Or should I say _my_ precious little concubine."

Alfred wanted to puke. Yao's hands trailed softly over his shoulders and he shrugged them off, glaring at the man. A sharp backhand across his face left him reeling, stares dancing across his vision and a sharp burning heat building in his jaw.

"At last you show some emotion, Ivan," Yao crowed victoriously and Alfred saw as his vision cleared that the prince had lunged forward against his chains, a snarl peeling his lips back from his teeth. Alfred didn't know why Yao wasn't peeing himself; the prince had never looked more dangerous to Alfred.

Yao grabbed him once more, his hands gripping the flimsy dress and pulling. A sharp tearing sound echoed around the room and Alfred yelped as the article was torn from his body. Ignoring his sudden nakedness, Alfred gripped the hilt of his dagger. It was now or never.

With a yell, Alfred pulled the blade out of the sheath strapped to his thigh and lunged at Yao. Startled cries behind him let him know that Feliks and Eduard were engaging the guard. Flames erupted around both Yao and his second-in-command, both men stumbling around trying to put out the fire eating at their clothing and hair. It was in this brief second of confusion as he was moving toward the two men that Alfred saw a flash of metal. The keys that Vash's Familiar had given him were hanging from the back of Yao's belt.

Alfred switched paths in the blink of an eye, his weight over balancing but at least driving him in the right direction as he fell. His blade caught on Yao's belt as his body tumbled past and the keys hit the floor with a metallic jangle that was barely audible over the chaos that had erupted in the room.

Scrabbling to reach his feet, Alfred renewed his grip on the dagger and swung around, trying not to think of how his genitals swung and his small breasts bounced with the movement. Before he could reassess the situation, a flaming body landed on top of him and fingers clamped hard around his neck. Alfred let out a sharp cry as he landed hard on the floor, the heat of the flames scalding his skin and raising blisters along his legs and stomach. He looked up to see Yao, his face contorted in rage, pinning him down.

He choked and tried to take a breath, thrashing under the weight of the other man. Black spots swam across his vision and he felt more of the flaming clothing press against his body, pain erupting over his chest and arms. One of his hands caught Yao across the face, but the weak hit barely caused the man to blink. The sounds in the room were beginning to fade away, as if cotton had been stuffed in his ears and the last of his vision shifted to grey, black forming solidly along the edges instead of hovering in spots. He pushed uselessly at the man on top of him, but the air felt heavy, pushing his limbs back down.

There was a loud roar of in the distance, accompanied by screams. Just as darkness took his vision and he felt himself losing his grip on reality, cold enveloped his body, a welcome chill against the burns and blisters littering his flesh. He felt Yao's weight leave him and cool, crisp air filtering into his lungs. His mind sluggishly tried to comprehend what was happening, but he could hear nothing but murmured sounds and see nothing but black.

A least the pain had stopped. All he could feel was comforting, numbing cold along his body and in his lungs. Maybe this was the release found in death, or at least on the edge of death. Alfred lay with nothing but frozen air to comfort him as he waited for some sort of closure.

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><p>Matthew watched the battle in growing horror. Alfred hadn't given him any clue that he had meant to attempt something so stupid. He watched as his master lunged naked across the floor, seeming to trip or fumble at the last moment and fall past him. He was so preoccupied with Alfred's crash on the floor that he almost missed the glint of silver that flew through the air away from the spectacle of a flaming Yao and two maids taking swords to his guards.<p>

The glint hit the floor and Matthew had to strain his ears to hear the clink as a set of keys bounced lightly across the marble of the throne room floor. It took him a moment to realize exactly what had happened. When it did he could have hit himself. Alfred hadn't tripped at all. He had seen the keys and changed his plans. It would have been better if he had just stabbed Yao, Matthew thought. He could have taken the keys after.

Scampering out from his hiding place behind Ivan, Matthew dodged through the raging battle – a very one-sided battle as Alfred and the 'maids' were either pinned down or driven back – and made his way toward the innocuous shine of the keys. As he hauled them up, he glanced around himself. No one had noticed him, too busy dodging swords and trying to put out the fires that kept erupting as Gilbert wove his way through the fight.

It was as he turned around to go back over to the prince and the Captain that Matthew noticed Alfred's plight. His master had been pinned by a flaming Yao. Matthew watched in frozen horror as fingers tightened around Alfred's throat and angry burns and blisters started to emerge on his skin.

Matthew kicked himself back into action, running full pelt through the flailing bodies. He had to free Ivan before it was too late for his master. Sliding into the wall in his haste, Matthew peered up at the manacles binding the two men. The keyhole was tiny, much smaller than any lock or door key would be. He dumped the key ring off his shoulder and started fishing desperately through the keys, willing himself not to look up and check on Alfred; it would only waste time.

Finally, tucked between a large brass skeleton key and a silver padlock key, was the smallest and strangest key Matthew had ever seen. He took no time to inspect it though, but reached up and jammed it into the lock, praying it was the right one. The heavy metal cuff clicked open and fell away from Ivan's wrist. In the next instant, Matthew watched as the metal of the other cuff and the chains exploded in a cloud of frost and ice. When it cleared, the prince was gone and Matthew was left to stare at in shock at an equally shocked Captain and a scattering of metal shards.

Turning back to the battle, he saw that the tide had turned in a wave of ice and sharp metal. Ivan had stolen a blade from one of Yao's men – presumably the man that now lay dead, stuck to the floor by several icy spikes – and was hacking his way through the enemy soldiers to where Yao was still looming over Alfred. Matthew swallowed as he realized that Alfred was no longer struggling. The only sign that he was still alive was an occasional twitch from one of his legs and arms and the continued opening and closing of his mouth as his body continued to attempt to draw in air.

Ivan wasn't going to make it in time if he had to fight his way there and the prince seemed to have realized this. He yelled something sharp at the disguised Feliks and Eduard, who both looked up in surprise and scampered to remove themselves from the prince's line of fire. Ivan spared no time in waiting for them to get out of the way before he was bringing up his hands and a cold power built in the room. The enemy scattered as they realized what was happening, but the wave of energy that left the prince left nothing untouched.

Matthew shuddered as cold washed over him. It felt as though the air had turned to ice and it was hard to breathe. He couldn't move his body. All around the prince men started falling to the ground, lips blue and eyes dulled by the cold. Yao tumbled sideways off Alfred, the fire in his clothing put out. His skin turned blue and started flake away even as Matthew watched. He glanced around the room at others, but no one else showed such extreme effects. Ivan had managed to target most of the spell on the leader of the invaders.

Compared to the rest of the occupants of the room, Alfred seemed he most unaffected by the spell, next to Ivan himself. His skin was still covered in burns, but no blue had started to form where his skin was unblemished. At first, Matthew thought it might be some protection offered by Alfred's deep connection to the prince, but a small movement of white by Alfred's side alerted him to the fact that Gilbert was also still moving. Perhaps it was also Alfred's tie to the fire magic of the dragon that had saved him from most of the spell's effects. Not that it really mattered how it had happened. For the first time since Alfred had decided to run away and join the army, Matthew felt that they might actually stand a chance at surviving.

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><p>That's all for now, see you all next chapter :)<p> 


	20. Chapter 17

A/N: I am so so so sorry this took so long to get up, but things got a little crazy in August. In any case, this chapter will be the last for this story and since I'm trying to graduate university this year, I can't promise when I'll start something new. The most I can say for sure is that I will try to start uploading some of my other works that are not yet on the site. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

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><p><span>Chapter 17: Recovery<span>

Ivan rolled fitfully in his blankets, the room around him dark and the clock ticking away on the wall across from the bed showed it to be in the early hours of morning. Yet he was still awake. Though it was no wonder, he thought irately, his eyes burning as he squinted up at the hangings around his four-poster. After everything that had happened in the last week it was a wonder he actually made it into bed at all.

Yao's soldiers were still very much at large in the city, but were reduced to small pockets, hiding in the back alleys and either attempting to flee the city or wreak as much havoc as they could before being captured. The prisons were becoming uncomfortably full, but Ivan dared not use the make shift cages that Yao had created. Alfred had managed an easy rescue with them and there were too many enemies roaming the streets to trust outdoor cells.

Ivan's thoughts focused in on his Consort. Alfred had been badly wounded in the last confrontation with Yao. Although the boy had survived, he had yet to wake and slumbered in the palace infirmary as his body slowly recovered. Each and every time Ivan visited him or let his mind concentrate on their bond he hoped to find something to indicate that Alfred would soon wake. Each time he was disappointed. The bond remained dormant and Alfred remained pale and still in his starched, white sheets, the only indication of life the slow rise and fall of his heavily bandaged chest.

He had put off his coronation as long as he could, wanting to wait for Alfred to wake so he could be by his side, as was traditional for the Royal Consort. His father's advisors and Toris had finally convinced him to schedule the ceremony. The empire was in turmoil after having the capital fall to invaders. The countryside that Yao had travelled was filled with burnt villages and carnage. The city wall repairs still hadn't been started. There was so much that required the signature of the emperor; someone had to take the throne. And tomorrow morning, it would be Ivan seated in that gilded chair, no longer a prince but an emperor.

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><p>There was no sound in the empty ward, early morning light filtering through a slight gap in the curtains. Beds lined the walls of the room, each and every one with neatly turned down sheets, save for one at the end. There was a small rustle of fabric as the occupant twitched a little in his deep slumber. The click of a latch was almost disturbingly loud, a violent and harsh sound against the background of absolute silence.<p>

A door at the end of the ward opened and a nurse wandered in, bundles of fresh linens and towels balanced carefully in her arms, a slight pout on her lips. She wouldn't be able to attend the coronation with the rest of the palace's occupants; she was assigned to the ward, watching over the ever-dormant form of the new emperor's Consort. I was sad, she thought vaguely as she put the folded sheets onto one of the shelving units at the end of the ward closest the door, that the emperor had lost his Consort before they even began their rule together. From all the stories circulating the palace about the boy, Alfred had been a very courageous person. It was no wonder the healers tried so hard.

But she had been a nurse for a number of years now and had seen cases such as his. The patients rarely awoke from their coma, and those who did were never the same. After so long, she wondered if the emperor could be persuaded to let the boy die. It would be a kindness, but so far no one had dared suggest it.

She sighed as the last sheet was placed onto a shelf and turned to enter the nurses' station when a rustling came from behind her. She jumped at the sound, wondering if someone new had been brought into the ward, since patients in comas weren't truly sleeping and didn't move. A glance around the room proved that only the young Consort was present.

Please don't let it be mice or rats, she pleaded silently, wandering slowly down the ward and bending to check under each of the beds for any unwelcome pests.

She reached the end of the ward and knelt down to check under Alfred's bed. Like all the rest of them, this one had nothing hiding beneath it, not even a small clump of dust. The cleaners were always thorough. There weren't even cracks in the walls through which a small creature could escape from view. Frowning in confusion, the nurse braced herself to stand up when the rustling came again, even louder than before. A hand slung down off the bed, falling directly in front of her and she left back with a small shriek, spine slamming painfully into the metal frame of the bed behind her and driving it a few inches across the floor.

Staring at the hand that dangled off the bed, she slowly let her eyes wander up to Alfred's face. The youth still slumbered, but he was breathing without assistance from the spell and his nose was wrinkled slightly from a strip of light that fell across half his face. Moving slowly, shock driving her actions, the nurse turned and twitched the curtains closed to ease the Consort's sleep. S

She stood for a few long moments just looking blankly at the white wall before her, then bolted out the door.

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><p>Ivan looked out over the crowd of his people crammed into the throne room and thought with trepidation about how many more would line the streets when he was carted around the city after his coronation. The thought was all the more horrid due to the loneliness seeping off the empty seat next to him in waves. No doubt the ceremonial carriage would feel even emptier.<p>

He vaguely realized that the priests were finishing with their chants and a chalice was being raised to his lips. Ivan leaned forward to drink the sanctified liquids that swirled within, when the hall echoed sharply as the doors were tossed open.

All heads turned to see a women dressed in nurses' whites panting in the doorway, eyes wide. Ivan leapt to his feet, uncaring of the contents of the cup spilling over his clothes and the floor. For a long panicked moment, he thought something terrible had happened to Alfred. Right as the nurse opened her mouth to address him, he realized the bond was humming quietly in the back of his mind and saw two small creatures ducking out of the hall.

"Your Majesty," the nurse gasped. "He moved. He is only sleeping now!"

The hall was wreathed in silence after her declaration and Ivan raced down the carpeted aisle and out the doors, barely aware of the commotion that had erupted behind him and the sound of excited healers sprinting out the doors to follow him.

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><p>Ivan stood anxiously to the side as healers crowded the bed where Alfred lay. Though still pale, his Consort would twitch every now and then, his nose scrunched in annoyance at the noise that threatened to disturb his sleep.<p>

Matthew and Gilbert stood by his feet, peering at the bed through the legs of the healers. Both seemed calm and even though he couldn't feel them the way he could feel Alfred, he could sense the relief emanating from their small bodies. Ivan almost had the urge to dismiss the healers. Nothing they said could convince him more that Alfred was recovering than the ease and peace of his Consort's Familiars.

Finally, a healer broke away from the group and approached Ivan.

"Your Majesty," the man bowed respectfully. "It seems Alfred has recovered from his coma and now just sleeps deeply. He should awake in another day or so."

Ivan nodded and motioned for the healer to depart. The man turned and ushered all but the nurse on duty out of the room. Sitting by the bed and clasping Alfred's warm hand in his cool one, Ivan felt for the first time since he had watched his father's execution that everything would someday be back to normal in the Empire. Ignoring the fact that he had run out on his own coronation, Ivan leaned back and closed his eyes, joining his Consort in a late morning nap, two smaller bodies curled together at Alfred's feet.

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><p><strong>Epilogue:<strong>

Alfred opened bleary eyes and glared cross-eyed at the feather tickling his nose and the impish purple eyes peering back at him over the edge of the bed. Alfred pulled the covers further up and rolled over, effectively removing his nose from the vicinity of the annoyance.

"Ooomph," Alfred groaned as a weight landed on him and pushed the air from his lungs. "Can't I have one morning to sleep in?" For all the irritation in his tone, the way he tugged at the long golden hair spilling over his shoulder from the figure on top of him was gentle.

"No," a small voice said with a giggle. "I'm on a mission."

"A mission for who?" Alfred demanded crossly, rolling over and watching the blonde bundle bouncing off him onto the other side of the bed. A side that was unusually empty given the hour.

"For Uncle Toris," the little girl beside him replied, smiling beatifically. "He says you promised to be on time for his wedding."

Alfred sat up abruptly, realizing with a jolt exactly what day it was. No wonder Ivan was no longer in bed. And of course the man couldn't be bothered to wake him as well. Bastard.

"Come on, daddy," the girl cried, bounding back to the floor and pulling at his arms. "You need to dress."

Alfred allowed himself to be pulled out of bed and across the room to where a gown had been tossed over the top of the dressing screen. At least he didn't have to try and find his outfit before he'd even had a cup of coffee.

"Hurry up," his daughter chirped at him from the other side of the screen as he tugged on the dress. "Grandma and Grandpa have arrived already and papa is having breakfast with them. Alone."

Alfred swore softly under his breath and hurried his dressing. His father hadn't been pleased when he found out his son had been married without his permission and to this day still held a grudge against his son-in-law. Those two in the same room without the mediation of both their spouses could only end in disaster.

"Alex, honey, could you help me with the buttons?" Alfred asked, desperately trying to do them up himself, but unable to reach the ones between in shoulder blades.

"Sure, daddy," Alex darted around the screen and Alfred knelt down so her small hands could deftly finish the last of the buttons. "Alright, now let's go before papa and grandpa get into trouble."

Giggling behind her hands, Alex took Alfred's hand and pulled him down the hall and into the private royal dining quarters. The room contained nothing but a frosty silence. Alfred glanced around cautiously, looking for thrown food or upended furniture. All he found were two nervous and angry men eating their breakfasts and one smug and relaxed woman.

Francis looked up as her son entered with her granddaughter and motioned them over to the table. Alex raced over and hopped into her grandmother's lap while Alfred moved more cautiously, trying to sense the mood of his spouse through their bond. He could feel anger simmering under the surface, but it was nothing beneath the overwhelming guilt and embarrassment. Alfred wondered what his mother had done to so thoroughly cow both men. He would have to get the story later.

Alfred took the seat next to Ivan and filled his plate, listening to the easy chatter between his mother and daughter. He glanced at Ivan and received a small smile in return, followed by a grumbling from the other side of the table. His father was glaring at Ivan fiercely from under his bushy brows and Alfred made a face at him. Arthur gave one last glare and opened his mouth.

"When can I expect my next grandchild," he demanded loudly and Alfred dropped the knife he was using to butter his toast in shock, gaping at his father. Arthur noticed the stares of the here adults at the table and shrugged with annoyance. "He did a good job with the first one," Arthur admitted grudgingly while motioning at Alex.

"I want a baby brother!" Alex declared loudly and Alfred sat for a long moment before he felt a smile tug at his lips and laughter bubble from his throat.

"Will it ease your hostility toward me?" Ivan asked cautiously, a slow smile breaking across his features as Arthur nodded grudgingly. "Then perhaps we will consider another baby."

Before Alfred could open his mouth to give his opinion on the matter, the door opened and the groom of the day stuck his head through.

"Is it time?" Ivan asked, standing from the table, the others mimicking him.

"Yes," Toris answered, nervously tugging at his formal attire and smoothing his hair.

"Very well, we shall be there shortly," Ivan answered, moving toward the door. Before he could make it out of the room, Alfred caught his arm, waiting as the others passed them. Ivan eyed him inquisitively.

"Don't you have anything to ask me?" Alfred demanded hotly, crossing his arms under his small breasts and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Yes, actually," Ivan answered, advancing on his Consort until Alfred was pressed against the wall. The taller man leaned in and kissed his spouse, moving back only enough to whisper a question to him, cool breath mingling with the heat of Alfred's.

"Will you make a baby with me, Alfred?"

A hand came down to grope him through the skirt of his dress and Alfred rolled his eyes, pushing the hand away. Now was not the time.

"I'll think about it, you unromantic ass."

He stomped off through the door, Ivan's laughter following him down the hall. As he entered the palace chapel to witness the Bonding of two of his closest friends, a smile played across Alfred's lips as he thought of the years that had passed since they had won back their empire. If his biggest problems were a horny, unromantic-but-loving spouse and a grumpy father, life was pretty good.

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><p>That's all, there isn't anymore! I can't believe it's done, but there you have it. I hope you all enjoyed the ride. Drop me a review and let me know what you thought, I'm always on the lookout for ways to improve myself as a writer.<p>

Bye bye for now!


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